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are  apt  to  escape  recognition;  even  his  admirers  tend  to  see  him  as  '"an  exquisite  manipulator 
of  paint",  or  "a  latter  day  Chardin".  These  views  contain  a  particle  of  truth,  but  they  leave  out 
of  account  the  fact  that  Braque  is  one  of  the  last — if  not  the  last — of  a  heroic  line  of  French  masters 
who,  in  the  past  hundred  years,  have  revolutionized  one  by  one  every  aspect  of  painting.  Therein 
lies  his  enormous  importance  for  the  art  of  today — and  tomorrow.  Let  us,  therefore,  try  to  see 
Braque's  achievements  in  a  historical  context. 

To  appreciate  what  a  revolutionary  artist  has  achieved,  we  must  start  by  seeing  what  it  was 
he  reacted  or  rebelled  against.  Take  Courbet,  the  first  of  the  19th  century  iconoclasts:  we  do  not 
properly  appreciate  Courbet's  greatness  unless  we  realize  that  he  overthrew  the  convention  that 
morally  elevating  subjects,  taken  from  history,  legend  or  religion,  were  those  most  worthy  of  an 
artist's  attention.  Courbet  thus  established  the  artist's  right  to  paint  any  subject  no  matter  how 
humble  and  ordinary.  Manet,  on  the  other  hand,  was  the  first  artist  publicly  to  react  against  the 
academic  cult  of  "finish"  and  "detail",  which  he  sacrificed  to  a  general  impression  or  momentary 
revelation;  hence  the  emergence  of  the  sketch  as  an  end  in  itself.  Manet  also  showed  how  absurd 
was  the  time-honoured  academic  practice  of  painting  in  a  gamut  of  intermediary  tones  keyed  to 
a  nuance  dominante  (a  single  dominant  colour)  and  thereby  made  it  possible  for  the  Impression- 
ists, in  their  turn,  to  abandon  chiaroscuro  and  revolutionize  the  painting  of  light.  Gauguin 
attacked  orthodoxy  at  yet  another  point:  he  challenged  the  supremacy  of  the  classical  tradition 
and  established  a  new  and  no  less  valid  set  of  aesthetic  values  deriving  in  part  from  primitive  and 
oriental  art.  Cezanne,  by  contrast,  was  a  counter-revolutionary  in  that  he  put  back  into  painting 
the  volumes  which  the  Impressionists  had  been  at  pains  to  banish  from  it,  and  established  a  new 
relationship  between  form  and  colour.  In  the  same  way,  Seurat,  Van  Gogh  and  Matisse — to  name 
only  the  most  prominent  innovators — managed  after  titanic  struggles  to  explode  old  fallacies, 
particularly  with  regard  to  colour  and  technique,  and  develop  new  and  more  expressive  means  of 
pictorial  notation.     But  what  did  Braque  rebel  against? 

Braque  himself  would  answer  nothing,  for  he  chooses  to  believe  that  he  is  no  rebel;  indeed, 
he  once  claimed  that  none  of  his  actions  had  ever  been  deliberate,  let  alone  revolutionary.  Not- 
withstanding these  words,  I  shall  persist  in  regarding  Braque  as  a  rebel,  for  he  has  always  been 
an  active  enemy  of  conventions  in  art  as  well  as  in  life;  and,  involuntarily  or  not,  he  has  been 
responsible — more  than  anyone  else  of  our  century  except  Picasso — for  dismantling  what  remained 


of  classical  and  Renaissance  traditions  and  substituting  a  new  range  of  artistic  concepts  in  their 
place.  I  have  not  the  space  in  which  to  do  justice  to  all  Braque's  discoveries  and  innovations. 
However,  I  should  like  to  discuss  three  of  his  most  revolutionary  achievements — ones  that  coincide 
roughly  with  the  three  main  periods  of  his  work.  First,  Braque's  rejection  of  geometrical  perspec- 
tive, which  resulted  in  the  cubist  approach  to  pictorial  recession;  second,  his  refusal  to  be  bound 
bv  convention  in  his  handling  of  artist's  materials,  which  resulted  in  his  exploitation  of  unorthodox 
paint-surfaces  and  a  new  kind  of  tactile  values;  and,  third,  his  rejection,  in  recent  years,  of  the 
accepted  views  of  reality,  which  has  resulted  in  his  "metamorphic"  view  of  appearances  and  an  ambi- 
valent artistic  vision  which  is  neither  figurative  nor  non-figurative  but  something  between  the  two. 

Why  did  Braque  reject  perspective?  For  the  true  reason  we  must  go  back  into  the  distant 
past.  Ever  since  Brunelleschi  had  formulated  certain  principles  of  geometrical  perspective  at  the 
beginning  of  the  15th  century,  painters  had  been  obsessed  with  the  problem  of  recession  not  only 
in  landscape  but  in  interior  scenes  and  even  still-lifes.  Claude,  for  instance,  was  always  at  great 
pains  to  lead  the  eye  gradually  back  into  depth  from  plane  to  plane;  he  would  place  his  figures, 
animals  and  clumps  of  trees  strategically  in  the  foreground,  then  further  back  a  bridge  or  temple, 
then  more  trees  and  finally  a  river  winding  round  mountains  and  over  waterfalls  before  disappear- 
ing into  an  infinite  blue  remoteness.  His  deep  understanding  and  observation  of  nature  allied 
to  a  superlative  artistic  sensibility  enabled  Claude  to  transcend  the  artificiality  of  this  so-called 
"ideal"  approach  to  landscape.  But  in  later,  lesser  hands  Claude's  picturesque  formulae  degenerated 
into  a  series  of  theatrical  tricks — repoussoirs,  an  enfilade  of  side-screens  and  wings  of  rockery  and 
stagey  boscage — all  devices  to  give  the  illusion  of  an  unending  spatial  continuum.  "Make  your 
Landskip  to  shoot  away,''''  wrote  William  Salmon,  the  18th  century  author  of  an  English  do-it-your- 
sell  book  on  painting,  "and  make  one  part  lower  than  the  other,  that  the  landscape  may  appear  to 
be  taken  from  the  top  of  a  hill."  No  wonder  so  many  picturesque  landscapes,  whether  by  Zucarelli, 
Vernet  or  Richard  Wilson,  look  about  as  real  as  peep-show  decors,  as  witness  those  eternal  plunging 
views  taken  from  a  high  terrace  of  a  never-never  land  which  is  neither  Italy,  France  nor  England. 
By  the  end  of  the  18th  century,  no  European  artist  would  have  dreamed  of  disagreeing  with  Thomas 
Campbell's  lines: 

'Tis  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view 
And  robes  the  mountain  in  its  azure  hue.' 

\nd  even   the  perceptive   Hazlitt  wrote  an  essay  on   the  same  questionable  theme,  entitled   Why 
distant   objects   please. 


Fig.  1   -    LA  JEUNE  BRETONNE   1901.  Oil  on  canvas:    55  X  46  cm.  (21  5'    X  18  in. 

Monsieur  Menachcm   Rosensajt,  Montreux. 

In  certain  last  outposts  of  academic  resistance  this  equation  of  distance  with  enchantment  still 
persists.  But  in  France  the  reaction  against  it  began  just  over  a  hundred  years  ago,  when  Courbet 
painted  landscapes  in  which  nature  is  rendered  in  all  its  density  and  earthiness,  and  not  as  if  it 
were  as  flimsy,  picturesque  and  remote  as  stage  scenery.  Then  came  Cezanne  who  dispensed 
with  most  of  the  traditional  aids  to  recession,  especially  in  his  late  works  which  are  based  on  a  new 
kind  of  colouristic  perspective.  But  Cezanne  did  not  set  himself  up  as  a  theorist  and  did  not 
apply  his  ideas  scientifically  nor  even  try  to  follow  them  to  their  logical  conclusions.  No  more 
is  Braque  a  theorist:  on  the  contrary,  he  has  the  greatest  mistrust  of  intellectual  formulae  and 
always  relies  on  instinct  and  intuition.  However,  quite  early  in  his  career,  he  perceived  the  full 
implications  of  Cezanne's  discoveries;  at  the  same  time,  he  saw  "the  downright  dishonesty"  of  the 
tricks  by  which  Renaissance  and  post-Renaissance  artists  achieved  their  illusory  effects  of  distance. 
By  the  same  token  he  saw  that  it  was  a  lie  to  try  to  represent  three  dimensions  in  terms  of  two. 
The  two-dimensional  surface  of  canvas  or  paper  must  be  respected.    Here  are  Braque's  own  words:  * 

••  i  he  whole  Renaissance  tradition  is  repugnant  to  me.  The  hard-and-fast  rules  of  perspective  which  it 
succeeded  in  imposing  on  art  were  a  ghastly  mistake,  which  it  has  taken  four  centuries  to  redress;  Cezanne 
and  after  him  Picasso  and  myself  can  take  a  lot  of  credit  for  this.  Scientific  perspective  is  nothing  but  eye- 
I' ><>ling  illusionism;  it  is  simply  a  trick  -  -  a  bad  trick  —  which  makes  it  impossible  for  an  artist  to  convey 
a  lull  experience  oi  space,  since  it  forces  the  objects  in  a  picture  to  disappear  away  from  the  beholder  instead 
of  bringing  them  within  his  reach,  as  painting  should.  Perspective  is  too  mechanical  to  allow  one  to  take  full 
ssion  ol  things.  It  has  its  origins  in  a  single  viewpoint  and  never  gets  away  from  it.  But  the  viewpoint 
is  of  little  importance.  It  is  as  if  someone  spent  his  life  drawing  profiles  and  ended  by  believing  that  man 
'>ii'  eyed.     When  we  arrived  at  this  conclusion,  everything  changed,  you  have  no  idea  how  much." 

To  Braque  it  followed  that  if  the  artist  were  ever  "to  take  full  possession  of  things",  he  must 
represent  an  object  from  all  sides,  or  at  any  rate  from  more  than  one  side,  simultaneously;  hence 
the  multiple — or  "simultaneous",  as  they  w7ere  usually  known — views  that  are  such  a  feature  of 
cubist  pictures.  It  likewise  followed  that  the  artist  must  dispense  with  the  vanishing  point  of 
traditional  perspective  and  represent  space,  which  is  infinite,  as  if  it  were  finite.  And  so  Braque 
set  about  reducing  the  spatial  element  to  a  shallow  recession  in  order  to  bring  everything  as  near 
in  the  surface  ol  the  canvas  as  possible.  Again,  to  bring  things  within  our  grasp,  Braque  started 
10  (acei  and  fragment  his  forms,  because,  as  he  said,  "this  was  a  means  of  getting  as  close  to 
'l|('  objects  as  painting  allowed.  Fragmentation  allowed  me  to  establish  a  spatial  element  as  well 
as  a  spatial  movement." 

Note:    All  quotations  are   taken  either  from    the  various  statements  that  Braque  lias  published,  notably  his  invaluable  interview  with 
'),":i  Valliei    (Cahiers  d'Art,  IT,);,  or  from  conversations  that  the  author  lias  had  with  him. 


At  first,  this  process  must  seem  puzzling,  but  if  we  examine  a  series  of  Braque's  landscapes 
painted  between  1905  and  1909.  it  is  not  difficult  to  follow.  Unlike  Picasso,  Braque  was  not  a  child 
prodigy,  and  his  early  works — -such  as  that  reproduced  on  plate  1 — presage  neither  rebelliousness 
nor  genius.  This  conventional,  sub-impressionist  view  of  Honfleur  is,  however,  interesting  because 
it  shows  that,  even  at  the  start,  Braque  did  not  see  things  pictorially  in  terms  of  receding  planes. 

Braque's  conversion  from  a  moderately  talented  student  into  an  artist  of  the  highest  promise 
happened  with  startling  abruptness.  At  the  Salon  d'Automne  of  1905  his  eyes,  he  says,  were 
"suddenly  opened  by  the  novelty,  the  physical  excitement,  the  youthfulness,  the  paroxysmal  qualities" 
of  the  fauve  painters — and  of  Matisse  and  Derain  in  particular.  Fired  by  their  example,  he  took 
to  painting  pictures  in  which  light  was  transposed  into  primary  colours,  not  represented  in  terms 
of  le  ton  juste,  as  it  had  been  by  the  Impressionists.  At  the  same  time,  the  forms  in  his  pictures 
became  flatter  and  the  spatial  element  more  shallow;  in  the  typical  fauve  landscape  that  we  see 
on  plate  2.  the  foreground  trees,  far  from  providing  the  setting  for  a  distant  prospect,  blend  with 
and  frame  a  mass  of  buildings  and  rocks  that  prevent  the  eye  from  penetrating  further.  Even 
in  La  Calanque  (plate  3) — a  somewhat  exceptional  work,  because  it  allows  us  a  free  view  to  the 
horizon — everything  is  brought  near  to  us  and  flattened  as  in  a  tapestry.  Likewise  L'Hotel 
Mistral  a  I'Estaque  (plate  4)  which  was  painted  a  few  months  later,  during  the  autumn  of  1907. 
and  which  is  a  key-work  in  Braque's  changing  attitude  to  recession  and  the  representation  of  form. 
This  transitional — partly  fauve,  partly  Cezannesque — picture,  which  was  started  at  L'Estaque  on 
the  Mediterranean  coast  and  finished  in  Paris  (after  the  artist  had  visited  the  retrospective  exhi- 
bition of  Cezanne's  works  at  the  Salon  d'Automne),  is  still  fauve  in  its  tonality  and  mildly  expression- 
istic  style.  However,  it  has  little  or  no  recession.  At  the  same  time,  the  forms — like  Cezanne's  forms — - 
are  more  clearly  defined,  emphatic,  angular  and  closer  to  the  surface  of  the  canvas  than  those  in 
previous  works.  Here  we  have  the  earliest  premonitions  of  cubism — the  style  that  was  to  find 
its  first  full  expression  in  landscapes  of  the  following  year  (e.g.  plate  8) — and  the  proof  that. 
in  the  space  of  only  two  years,  Braque  had  become  a  modern  painter,  one  of  the  two  or  three 
most  inventive  of  his  generation. 

The  speed  with  which  Braque  effected  his  evolution  from  fauvism  to  cubism  is  immediately 
apparent  if  we  compare  plates  2  (summer,  1906)  and  8  (summer,  1908)  which  depict  almost 
identical  views  of  L'Estaque.  In  plate  2  Braque  is  mainly  concerned  with  rendering  the  brilliance 
of  southern  light  and  creating  a  decorative  schema;  he  dispenses  with  recession  and  accepts  the 
lack  of  a  spatial  element  in  his  picture.  In  plate  8,  on  the  other  hand,  Braque  has  managed, 
despite  a  comparable  lack  of  recession,  to  surround  his  very  solid  looking  forms  with  an  almost 
tangible  expanse  of  space — a  conjuring  trick  which  he  could  not  have  brought  off  without  Cezanne's 


help.  The  muted  ochres  and  viridians— a  far  cry  from  the  primary  colours  of  plate  II— are  Cezan- 
nesque:  so  is  the  articulation  of  the  planes  and  the  way  they  are  faceted  and  tonally  contrasted 
in  order  to  conjure  up  space  and  volume.  But  Braque  has  gone  much  further  than  Cezanne  and 
led  to  its  conclusion  the  famous  dictum  of  the  Master  of  Aix  (published  for  the  first  time  the 
vious  autumn):  "Treat  nature  by  the  cylinder,  the  sphere  and  the  cone."  In  doing  so.  he  has 
imposed  his  own  vision  on  the  landscape  instead  of  allowing  the  landscape  to  impose  itself  on  him. 
Moreover,  by  virtually  excluding  the  sky — what  little  we  can  see  is  painted  the  same  ochre  as  the 
and  In  faceting  his  forms  and  tilting  them  at  various  angles  to  the  surface  of  the  canvas, 
Braque  has  managed  to  bring  everything  within  our  grasp  and  to  confine  the  pictorial  space  in 
such  a  way  that  we  are  made  to  feel  it  as  a  tangible,  measurable  element.  When  this  and  other 
similar  views  of  L'Estaque  were  submitted  to  the  Jury  of  the  Salon  d'Automne  in  1908,  they  were 
all  rejected.  Matisse  remarking  that  they  were  made  of  "little  cubes".  And  when  the  reactionary 
critic  Yauxcelles,  reiterated  this  quip  in  print,  the  useful  but  misleading  term,  "cubism",  originated. 
Thus  Braque's  L'Estaque  pictures  of  1908  are  land-marks  in  the  history  of  modern  art.  All  the 
same,  we  must  never  forget  that,  between  1909  and  1914,  cubism — which  can  be  summarized  as  a 
conceptual,  as  opposed  to  perceptual,  means  of  representing  form  and  space  and  recreating  the 
reality  ot  things — was  a  joint  venture  on  the  part  of  Braque  and  Picasso.  "It  was  as  if  we  were 
two   mountaineers  roped   together"  was   Braque's  comment  many  years  later. 

The  last  landscape  (plate  7)  which  I  have  chosen  in  order  to  show  Braque's  progressive 
rejection  of  conventional  perspective  and  recession  was  painted  a  year  later  than  Les  Arbres  a 
I  'Estaque — that  is  to  say  in  1909 — and  is  one  of  a  series  of  eight  depicting  the  picturesque  Seine- 
side  village  of  La  Roche-Guyon  with  the  castle  of  the  La  Rochefoucaulds  perched  above  it.  What 
a  long  way  we  have  come  from  the  plunging  views  of  the  picturesque  tradition!  What  a  long 
way  from  Cezanne,  though  the  latter's  influence  remains  ever  present  in  Braque's  work,  even  if 
less  and  less  perceptible!  And  what  a  long  way  from  Braque's  own  works  of  two — let  alone  four — - 
years  before!  Here  the  sky  is  completely  excluded  and  even  the  top-most  buildings  are  painted 
as  il  within  our  reach.  Plate  7  is  the  first  and  most  naturalistic  painting  of  the  series,  but  in  sub- 
sequent versions  of  the  subject  Braque  reduced  everything  to  a  complex  of  faceted  shapes  that  rise 
in  tiers  and  yet  appear  to  be  tumbling  out  of  the  picture  at  the  spectator.  Claudian  principles 
have  thus  been  completely  reversed.  By  bringing  objects  so  near  to  the  surface  of  the  canvas, 
the  artisl  puts  us  into  the  closest  possible  touch  with  the  physical  reality  of  things  and  draws  us 
into  their  spatial  environment. 

\t    this  point   Braque  perceived   that  still-life  would  lend  itself  even  better  than  landscape  to 
test  inn   l,is  new  pictorial  conception.     So,  after  the  Roche-Guyon  pictures,  he  turned  his  back  on 


Fig.  2  -   NATURE  MORTE  AUX  CRUCHES  1906.  Oil  on  canvas:  60  X  50  cm.  (235  8  X  193'4  in. 

Fine  Arts  Associates,  New  York. 

the  natural  scene  and,  with  a  few  rare  exceptions,  did  not  concern  himself  with  it  again  for  almost 
twenty  years,  that  is  to  say  not  until  he  embarked  on  a  series  of  beach  pictures  towards  the  end 
of  the  1920's.  In  these  Braque  continued  to  draw  on  his  cubist  discoveries,  but  made  no  serious 
attempt  to  analyze  forms;  and  again  in  his  most  recent  landscapes  (e.g.  plate  53)  he  evokes  the 
tactile  qualities  rather  than  the  basic  structure  of  nature.  "After  1909,  I  ceased  to  be  primordially 
a  landscape  painter,"  he  has  said. 

Braque's  struggle  to  make  the  objects  in  a  still-life  advance  towards  us  instead  of  receding 
away  from  us  can  again  be  followed — like  his  parallel  struggle  with  landscape — in  a  series  of 
representative  pictures.  Already  in  figure  2,  a  conventional  exercise  in  an  idiom  owing  as  much 
to  Cezanne  as  to  Matisse,  there  is  little  enough  recession.     But  in  plate  5,  a  cardinal  work  which 

Braque  claims  as  his  "first  cubist  still-life" — this  was  the  first  composition  he  did  from  imagination, 
a  principle  he  followed  in  all  his  subsequent  cubist  and  post-cubist  works — perspective  has  been 


discarded  and  we  arc  shown  more  of  each  object  than  the  eye  could  normally  see.  (As  Picasso  once 
said,  "in  cubism  you  paint  not  what  you  see,  but  what  you  know  is  there."  In  plate  6  this  process 
is  carried  much  further:  the  objects  fall  out  of  the  canvas  at  us.  like  the  houses  in  some  of  the 
Roche-Guyon  pictures,  and  we  have  the  feeling  that  we  can  actually  see  round  the  guitar  and  the 
fruit-dish.  Then  in  plates  9  and  10  (versions  in  different  media  of  the  same  composition)  it 
is  carried  further  still.  Here  Braque  has  abandoned  not  only  perspective  and  recession  but  almost 
all  reference  to  natural  appearances.  The  objects  merge  with  one  another,  with  the  space  sur- 
rounding them  and  with  the  background.  Indeed,  only  a  practised  eye  can  decipher  them:  a 
bottle  of  "Old  Tom"  gin.  a  glass,  a  packet  of  cigarettes  and  a  playing  card  on  a  small  table  with  a 
drawer  (the  lettering  on  the  right  refers  to  Fox's  English  Bar,  a  favourite  rendez-vous  of  the 
Cubists  and  their  friends).  Small  wonder  that  the  fascinating,  if  difficult,  pictures  that  Braque  and 
Picasso  executed  at  this,  the  closest,  period  of  their  collaboration  are  referred  to  as  "hermetic",  or 
that,  despite  their  obsession  with  reality,  the  two  artists  faced  the  danger  of  falling  into  total  ab- 
stractionism; too  much  had  been  sacrificed  to  spatial  and  formal  considerations. 

At  this  crucial  juncture — roughly  at  the  beginning  of  1912 — Braque  and  Picasso  reverted  to 
a  more  legible  style.  But  they  were  not  really  saved  from  their  dilemma  until,  between  them,  they 
had  evolved  the  techniques  of  collage  and  papier  colic  (figure  3  illustrates  the  first  of  these).  Papier 
colle — which  I  discuss  at  greater  length  in  a  subsequent  section — was  an  extremely  valuable  dis- 
covery, because  it  revealed  to  the  artist  how  he  could  reduce  everything  to  flat  planes  and  thus 
respect  the  two-dimensional  surface  of  paper  or  canvas,  while  at  the  same  time  conveying  the 
illusion  of  a  spatial  element.  It  also  made  possible  the  style  that  has  come  to  be  known  as  "Syn- 
thetic" cubism — the  final  episode  in  the  Cubists'  campaign  to  liberate  art  from  the  tyranny  of 
Renaissance  science.  For  instead  of  breaking  down  reality  analytically  into  its  component  parts, 
the  artist  was  now  able  to  achieve  as  good,  if  not  better,  results  by  employing  the  reverse  process, 
that  is  to  say  by  reconstructing  reality  synthetically  out  of  a  heterogeneous  assortment  of  elements 
that  were  flat  and  pictorial,  but  not  necessarily  representational.  The  consequences  of  this  total 
rejection  of  formal  indications  as  well  as  perspective  and  recession  changed  everything  not  only  for 
Braque,  Picasso  and  other  lesser  Cubists,  but  for  the  subsequent  development  of  art.  If  so  many 
modern  paintings  have  an  immediacy  and  reality  which  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  art  of  the  past, 
it  is  largely  because  Braque — and  Picasso — brought  nature  back  within  our  grasp.  At  all  events. 
it  is  undeniable  that  in  the  space  of  four  years  the  two  inventors  of  cubism  changed  the  whole 
course  of  still-life  and  landscape  painting.  "From  then  on,"  says  Braque,  "all  kinds  of  new  develop- 
ments be<  ame  possible." 

I    1 

Fig.  3  -  COMPOTIER  ET  VERRE  Autumn  1912.  Collage  and  charcoal:    60  X  44  cm.    (24  x  17 1/2    in.)  Private  Collection,  France. 

JN  o  less  tar-reaching  in  its  consequences  has  been  Braque's  revolutionary  attitude  to  what  the 
late  Mr.  Berenson  described  as  "tactile  values."  Tactile  values,  said  Berenson.  "occur  in  represen- 
tations of  solid  objects  when  communicated  in  a  way  that  stirs  the  imagination  to  feel  their  bulk, 
heft  their  weight,  realize  their  potential  resistance,  span  their  distance  from  us  and  encourage  us, 
always  imaginatively,  to  come  into  close  contact  with,  to  grasp,  to  embrace  or  to  walk  around  them." 
And  Berenson  cites  Giotto  and  Masaccio  as  perhaps  the  greatest  purveyors  of  tactile  values — values 
which  raise  the  works  of  these  artists  onto  "a  higher  plane  of  reality"  and  endow  them  with  a  "greater 
degree  of  material  significance."  Few  of  us,  I  am  sure,  would  quarrel  with  Berenson's  view  that  the 
presence  of  tactile  values  enhances  the  power  of  a  painting.  Unfortunately,  however,  Berenson 
was  so  absorbed  by  Italian  Renaissance  art  that  he  did  not  see  beyond  it  and  try  to  pursue  his  idea 
through  its  later  manifestations  in  19th  and  20th  century  painting.  Far  more  than  either  Giotto  or 
Masaccio.  Cezanne  endows  what  Berenson  calls  "retinal  sensations"  with  tactile  value.  What 
admirer  of  modern  art  is  not  stirred  to  "feel  the  bulk  and  heft  the  weight"  of  Cezanne's  apples? 
However,  although  Cezanne  conveys  a  fuller  experience  of  a  still-life  than  any  of  his  precursors, 
Chardin  included,  there  is  one  tactile  aspect  which  he  never  really  tackled:  so  preoccupied  was 
he  with  establishing  his  apples  or  onions,  glasses  or  bottles  as  objects  in  space,  that  he  overlooked 
their  textural  properties.  In  a  painting  by  Cezanne,  one  cannot  easily  distinguish  between  a  real 
or  a  paper  flower,  a  real  or  a  wax  apple,  a  stone  or  a  wooden  table-top.  What  mattered  to  Cezanne 
was  that  their  volumes  should  accord  with  his  pictorial  conception.  This  is  no  less  important  to 
Braque.  But  Br  acme's  still-lifes  are  an  advance  on  Cezanne's  to  the  extent  that  the  reversed  per- 
spective enables  the  artist  to  make  objects  more  immediately  tangible  and  because  their  textural 
properties  are  rendered  in  all  kinds  of  subtly  contrasted  and  expressive  ways.  Braque  disclaims 
all  knowledge  of  Berenson's  theories,  but  instinctively  and  intuitively  he  has  arrived  at  some  of  the 
same  conclusions.  "It  is  not  enough  to  make  people  see  what  one  has  painted,"  he  has  written, 
"one  must  also  make  them  want  to  touch  it."  And  again,  "there  are  two  kinds  of  space:  visual  space 
which  separates  objects  from  one  another:  tactile  space  which  separates  objects  from  us."  Let  us 
briefly  try  to  see  how  Braque  has  put  these  ideas  into  practice. 

Not  for  nothing  is  Braque  the  product  of  a  family  of  house-painters.  Since  he  himself  spent 
more  than  three  years  learning  the  tricks  and  secrets  of  the  trade — marbling,  wood-graining,  letter- 
ing and  every  kind  of  decorative  effect- — lie  has  always  known  how  to  give  life  to  his  materials,  and 
even  his  earliest  paintings  betray  an  innate  painterliness.  Take  the  fauve  landscapes:  Braque's  have 
a  richer,  more  varied  and  more  seductive  paint-surface  than  those  of  Derain  or  Vlaminck,  although 
their  execution  may  be  less  sine  and  their  effect  less  exhilarating.  Likewise  even  in  cubist  com- 
positions ol   1()  10-1 91 2,  when  Braque  and  Picasso  were  trying  to  eliminate  the  personal  element  in 


painting  by  suppressing  their  quirks  and  mannerisms,  Braque's  pictures  are  distinguished  by  subtle 
and  painterly  passages,  which  Picasso  would  probably  have  thought  too  redolent  of  art  for  art's  sake 
for  his  own  works. 

Earlier  I  have  emphasized  that  cubism  should  primarily  be  seen  as  a  joint  venture.  Never- 
theless Ave  are  still  entitled  to  differentiate  between  the  contributions  of  its  two  creators:  between 
Picasso's  phenomenal  vitality  and  plastic  awareness  and  Braque's  feeling  for  the  ingredients  and 
properties  of  different  kinds  of  pigment  and  his  instinct  for  new  combinations  of  media.  In  par- 
ticular, it  was  Braque  who  first  realized  that  whereas  the  traditional  attitude  to  subject-matter, 
colour,  composition,  academic  finish,  representationalism  and  perspective  had  been — or  was  in  the 
process  of  being — revolutionized,  only  one  important  pictorial  element  still  remained  sacrosanct: 
the  artist's  medium.  Courbet,  Manet,  Monticelli,  Gauguin,  Seurat,  Van  Gogh — to  name  but  the 
most  obvious  examples — had  used  oil-paint  in  original  ways  to  suit  their  various  purposes,  but  in 
the  last  resort  had  always  respected  the  purity  of  the  medium.  Braque  felt  no  such  compunction. 
Thus  he  was  the  first  (in  1910)  to  use  sign-Avriter's  lettering  as  a  pictorial  element  (e.g.  plates  13, 
14  and  17),  because,  said  he,  letters  "were  forms  which  could  not  be  deformed:  being  two- 
dimensional,  they  existed  outside  three-dimensional  space:  their  inclusion  in  a  picture  allowed  one 
to  distinguish  between  objects  which  were  situated  in  space  and  those  which  belonged  outside 
space."  Braque  was  also  the  first  to  mix  sand,  sawdust,  ashes,  metal  filings  and  even  tobacco  with 
his  paint  to  give  it  added  substance  as  well  as  to  enable  him  to  vary  his  textures  (e.g.  plates  12, 
17  and  18).  Most  important  of  all,  it  was  Braque  who  saw  the  full  implications  of  Picasso's 
discovery  of  collage  and  devised  the  technique  of  papier  colle:  the  incorporation  into  a  picture 
of  pieces  of  cut  and  pasted  paper. 

The  first  papier  colle  (figure  3)  was  created  at  Sorgues  in  the  autumn  of  1912,  at  a  time  when 
Braque  was  trying  to  see  how  positive  colours — hitherto  banished  from  cubist  painting,  "because 
they  would  have  been  a  distraction" — could  be  reconciled  with  the  cubist  conception  of  represent- 
ing form  and  space.  At  first  he  had  hoped  to  equate  colour  with  texture,  varying  his  paint  surfaces 
and  exploiting  his  repertory  of  decorator's  effects.  But  this  proved  to  be  only  a  partial  solution. 
The  advantage  of  papier  colle  was  that  it  enabled  him  to  separate  the  pictorial  functions  of  form, 
as  represented  by  drawing,  and  colour  as  represented  by  pieces  of  cut  paper;  it  also  enabled  him 
to  represent  an  object — such  as  the  newspaper  in  plate  15 — by  an  exact  equivalent  of  itself.  At 
the  same  time,  it  opened  the  door  to  a  new  range  of  tactile  effects,  injected  an  extra  measure  of 
reality  into  pictures  and  undermined  the  cult  of  belle  peinture  by  establishing  the  artist's  right 
to  make  a  work  of  art  with  the  humblest  materials.  Going  still  further,  this  discovery  meant  that 
Braque  was  able  to  cross  the  traditional  barrier  between  sculpture  and  painting,  because  his  pic- 


tare  became  what  he  and  Picasso  called  a  tableau-objet — that  is  to  say,  something  which  is  not  a 
mirror-image  of  nature  or  a  wall-decoration,  but  an  autonomous  object  with  an  identity  of  its  own. 

Instead  of  being  acclaimed  for  his  inventiveness  and  daring.  Braque  was  accused  by  colleagues 
and  critics  alike  of  defiling  the  noble  medium  of  oil-paint  and  of  perversely  ennobling  the  tricks 
and  materials  of  a  decorator.  Granted.  Braque — no  less  than  Picasso,  who  shared  in  his  discoveries 
and  exploited  them  in  a  more  sensational  manner — paved  the  way  unintentionally  for  many  of 
the  freakish  and  frivolous  experiments  in  texture  and  matiere  which  plague  us  today:  the  burnt 
burlap  of  Burri.  the  sandy  wastes  of  Tapies.  the  torn  blue-jeans  of  Arthur  Dove,  or  the  stuffed 
birds  of  Rausthenberg.  But.  b\  and  large.  Braque 's  imaginative  approach  has  enriched  and  widened 
the  artist's  technique  and  been  responsible  for  many  valuable  developments  in  the  work  of  men 
as  disparate  as  (iris,  Laurens,  Boccioni.  Schwitters.  Arp,  Ernst,  Miro  and  de  Stael.  Braque  himself 
went  on  to  imitate  papiers  colics  in  trompe  I'ceil  passages  of  paint.  Compare,  for  instance,  the 
papier  colic  reproduced  on  plate  15  with  the  oil-painting  on  plate  17  in  which  some  of  the  same 
objects  appear.  In  the  papier  colic  the  musical  instrument  is  represented  by  a  piece  of  wood- 
grained  wall-paper;  in  the  painting  by  an  area  of  brown  pigment  combed  to  imitate  wood-graining. 
Likewise  in  plate  15  the  newspaper,  Le  Quotidien  du  Midi,  is  represented  by  itself,  whereas  in 
plate  17  it  is  simulated  in  paint;  and  look  how  in  plate  15  the  different  pieces  of  cut  paper  are 
contrasted  with  one  another,  just  as  in  plate  17  thick  impasto  is  contrasted  with  thin,  faux  marbre 
with  faux  hois,  and  drawing  in  paint  with  drawing  in  charcoal.  The  subtlety  of  these  tactile 
contrasts,  which  play  an  essential  part  in  the  organization  of  "Synthetic"  cubist  pictures,  adds 
another  dimension  to  our  enjoyment  in  the  same  way  that  combinations  of  texturally  contrasted 
ingredients  make  a  dish  more  appetizing. 

"In  painting,  the  contrast  between  textures  plays  as  big  a  role  as  the  contrast  between  colours," 
Braque  has  gone  so  far  as  to  say.  "I  profit  from  all  the  variations  in  matiere,  and  the  colour  takes 
on  a  much  deeper  meaning...  and  has  much  greater  diversity.  With  a  lacquer,  for  example,  which 
is  transparent,  and  an  ochre  which  is  opaque  one  can  arrive  at  a  harmony,  that  is  to  say  one  can 
confront  opposites  just  as  with  colours.  But  then  what  is  colour  really?  When  one  says  red  or 
green,  one  says  nothing.  II  it  is  a  crimson  lake,  it  is  one  thinsr;  if  it  is  a  red  ochre,  another — and 
so  on  ad  infinitum.  Oh  what  a  difference!"  Although  these  ideas  first  manifested  themselves  in 
works  of  1912-14,  the  artist  did  not  exploit  their  full  possibilities  until  after  the  war,  when  he 
painted  a  series  of  still-lifes  in  which  the  forms  are  flat,  like  those  in  early  "Synthetic""  cubist  works, 
but  which  are  noticeably  more  colourful  and  more  varied  in  texture.  Another  innovation:  Braque 
painted  these  compositions  on  a  black  ground  to  give  resonance  to  the  colours  and  help  him  to 
evoke  depth   without   having  to  indicate  recession;  one  feels  that  the  forms  might  be  floating  on 


Fig.  4a  and  4  b  -  CANEI'HORAE  1922.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:   180x722  cm.  (703/    X28*/.,    [n>) 

Muscles  Nationaux  de  Frani  e. 

the  surface  of  a  dark  pool.  Plate  18  provides  an  outstanding  example  of  this  new  procedure. 
The  texture  changes  from  one  part  of  the  picture  to  another;  the  right-hand  half  of  the  guitar  is 
grained  to  resemble  wood  and  is  highly  varnished;  some  background  areas  arc  built  up  to  give  a 
feeling  of  density  and  depth;  shiny  and  matt  surfaces  are  juxtaposed  and  certain  sections  enlivened 
with  pointillistic  brushwork.  Especially  skilful  is  the  passage  in  the  foreground  where  the  texture 
and  tonality  ot  four  whiteish  objects — the  high-lit  front  of  the  table,  the  thickly  impasted  clay  pipe, 
the  thin  matt  paint  of  the  ace  of  clubs  and  the  polished  ivory  dice — are  set  off  against  each  other  so 
effectively  that  one's  hand  itches  to  touch  them,  and  placed  so  cunningly  that  the  eye  feels  it  is 
being  lead  deep  into  the  middle  of  the  picture.  What  better  example  of  "tactile"  space?  All  this 
is  i  he  more  remarkable  for  being  achieved — as  almost  always  when  Braque  has  complicated  prob- 
lems to  solve — with  an  appearance  of  extreme  simplicity. 

Braque  could  not  achieve  this  degree  of  tactile  perfection  if  he  did  not  take  the  utmost  care 
over  the  priming  of  his  canvases.  '"The  priming,"  he  once  said,  "is  at  the  basis  of  everything  else, 
just  like  the  foundations  of  a  house."  Thus  in  the  1920's  we  find  him  preparing  his  canvases  with 
a  thickish  sandy  layer  of  matt  black  paint,  which  Braque  has  compared  to  coffee-grounds  or  tea- 
luxes,  because,  like  a  fortune-teller,  he  can  "divine  there  things  that  others  cannot  see."  This 
priming  provides  a  marvellous  foil  for  the  flat  lambent  washes  of  colour  with  which  he  builds 
up  his  monumental  Canephorae  (figures  4  a  and  4  b)  and  his  somewhat  ornate  still-lifes  (e.g.  plates 
'2 1 ,  22,  27  and  28)  of  the  same  period.  But  towards  the  end  of  the  decade,  when  he  started 
experimenting  once  again,  he  discarded  the  dark  grounds — some  of  which  (e.g.  plate  27)  are  so 
thick  and  tarry  that  they  threaten  to  extinguish  the  luminosity  of  the  colours- — in  favour  of  other 
types  of  surface.  For  instance,  Braque  painted  a  series  of  masterly  Gueridons  (e.g.  plates  33  and 
34)  in  delicate  washes  of  oil  paint  over  a  neutral-coloured  priming  of  sand  mixed  with  gesso,  which 
enabled  him  to  achieve  an  exquisitely  powdery,  fresco-like  effect.  He  also  executed  a  number 
ot  highly  simplified  still-lifes  (e.g.  plate  38)  in  areas  of  thinly  applied  colour  across  which  a  net- 
work of  fine  white  lines  is  often  scratched.  And  he  engraved  slabs  of  plaster,  painted  black,  with 
mythological  scenes  in  the  manner  of  a  classical  intaglio  (figure  7  illustrates  a  recent  example  of 
ih is  technique).  Some  of  these  experiments,  it  is  true,  tend  towards  the  decorative,  yet  they  are 
always  redeemed  and  made  meaningful  by  tactile  qualities.  Later,  towards  the  end  of  the  1930's, 
Braque  started  work  on  a  series  of  still-lifes  (e.g.  plate  43) — so  thickly  painted  as  almost  to  consti- 
tute bas-reliefs — which  are  often  set  off  against  a  scumbled  back-ground.  One  of  the  most  impres- 
sive is  a  Vanitas  (not  reproduced  but  similar  to  plate  45)  which  has  remained  in  the  artist's  pos- 
session.  The  beads  of  the  rosary  are  built  up  with  a  thick,  nutty  impasto  which  seems  to  invite 
the  spectatoi    to  finger  it;  and  even  the  subject  has  been   chosen   for  its  tactile   potentialities    (as 


Fig.  5  -  TE'I'E  DE  FEMME.  Pencil. 

Monsieur  Georges  Braque,  Paris. 

Braque  once  said  of  the  musical  instruments  in  his  cubist  still-lifes,  "I  am  always  drawn  to  paint 
things  which  arc  animated  by  touch").  How  characteristic  of  Braque  that  a  Vanitas — an  allegory 
of  the  transience  of  human  life  and  aspirations — should  inspire  him  lor  its  tactile  and  not  for  its 
philosophical  or  religious  possibilities! 

During  and  after  the  recent  war,  Braque  continued  to  vary  his  surfaces  in  all  kinds  of  subtle 
and  ingenious  ways;  also  he  went  to  ever  greater  trouble  in  his  search  for  appropriate  materials: 
using  wood  panels  for  small  cabinet  pictures,  nubbly  sheets  of  antique  paper  for  an  edition  of 
engravings,  unprimed  hessian  to  get  a  certain  breadth  or  roughness,  as  in  some  of  the  Ateliers,  and 
occasionally  newspaper,  cardboard  or  canvas  of  a  silken  fineness.  But.  for  Braque,  surface  enrich- 
ment has  never  become  an  end  in  itself,  as  was  sometimes  the  case  with  Rouault.  any  more  than 
it  has  become  an  eye-catching  device  to  distract  attention  from  weaknesses  of  colour  or  content, 
as  in  the  case  of  an  artist  like  Dubuffet.  Braque  has  always  used  texture  to  harmonize  with  or 
enhance  the  colours  and  forms  of  his  figures,  landscapes  and  still-lifes,  and  above  all  to  give  them 
added  reality.  Studying  the  plates  in  this  book,  the  reader  cannot  fail  to  be  struck  by  Braque's 
capacity  for  finding  appropriate  equivalents  in  paint  for  the  rough  glaze  of  a  pitcher  (plate  27), 
the  thick  nap  of  a  billiard  table  (plate  52),  the  undulating  surface  of  a  field  of  corn  (plate  53) 
or  the  powdery  bloom,  the  shiny  rind  and  skin  of  all  kinds  of  fruit.  Braque  endows  things  with 
such  a  compelling  feeling  of  life  that  one  longs  to  reach  out  and  touch  them.  And  it  is  not  only 
concrete  things  that  Braque  tempts  one  to  touch.  In  his  recent  bird  pictures  (e.g.  plates  67 
and  68)  his  skies  have  such  tactile  depth  that  one  is  persuaded  that  they  are  not  just  areas  of 
blueish  paint  but  an  element  in  which  birds  could  fly.  I  will  always  remember  watching  Braque 
at  work  on  A  Tire  d'Aile  (plate  67);  for  days  and  weeks  he  went  on  adding  liquid  greyish  paint, 
layer  by  layer,  until  the  canvas  had  become  so  caked  with  pigment  that  it  could  barely  be  lifted 
on  and  off  the  easel.  The  result  is  a  sky  that  has  an  astonishing  cumulus  quality  and  seems  more 
tangible  than  the  bird — a  typically  Braquian  paradox.  Previously  he  had  used  a  similar  technique 
for  the  Louvre  ceiling  (figure  8) — Braque's  first  full-scale  treatment  of  the  bird  theme — which  again 
explains  the  marvellous  azure  depth  of  the  sky  in  these  panels.  Braque  convinces  us  that  it  would 
Ik  possible  and  even  pleasurable  to  feel,  and  not  merely  see,  our  way  about  his  pictures,  as  we  might 
feel  our  way  on  a  dark  night  or  in  a  dense  fog,  when  distances  have  to  be  measured  by  touch  as  well 
as  by  sight.  This  is  to  convey  a  far  greater  measure  of  tactile  values  than  any  previous  artist — let 
alone  an  art-historian  like  Berenson — ever  envisaged. 


lVlcntion  of  these  mysterious  bird  pictures  brings  me  to  the  last  of  Braque's  revolutionary  con- 
ceptions that  I  want  to  discuss:  his  rejection  of  all  hitherto  accepted  views  of  reality  (surrealism 
included)  in  favour  of  a  "metamorphic" — or  what  he  also  calls  "poetic" — view  of  things  and  an 
ambivalent  type  of  vision  which  is  neither  figurative  nor  non-figurative.  What  do  these  vague  words 
''metamorphic"  and  "poetic"  mean?  Braque  mistrusts  explanations,  for  he  is  afraid  of  dissipating 
the  mystery  which  is  fundamental  to  his  recent  work,  so  perhaps  the  most  tactful  thing  is  to  let  him 
speak  for  himself:  * 

"  'The  only  valid  thins;  in  art  is  that  which  cannot  he  explained,"  I  once  wrote.  I  still  feel  this  very 
strongly.  To  explain  away  the  mystery  of  a  great  painting  —  if  such  a  feat  were  possible  —  would  do  irrep- 
arable harm,  lor  whenever  you  explain  or  define  something  you  substitute  the  explanation  or  the  definition 
for  the  real  thing.  The  same  is  true  of  science.  Each  time  a  new  problem  is  solved,  I  feel  that  something  of 
value  has  been  lost.  Instead  of  having  matters  made  clearer,  I  should  like  to  have  them  made  even  more 
obscure.  //  faut  toujours  augmenter  le  trouble.  What  about  criticism?  Critics  should  help  people  to  see  for 
themselves;  they  should  never  try  to  define  things  or  impose  their  own  explanations,  though  I  admit  that  il 
—  as  nearly  always  happens  —  a  critic's  explanations  serve  to  increase  the  general  obscurity,  that  is  all  to  the 
good.  Poets  are  particularly  helpful  in  this  respect.  Few  ol  them  have  understood  the  first  thing  about  modern 
painting  yet  they  are  always  trying  to  write  about  it... 

"There  are  certain  mysteries,  certain  secrets  in  my  own  work  which  even  I  do  not  understand,  nor  do  I 
try  to  do  so.  Why  bother?  The  more  one  probes,  the  more  one  deepens  the  mystery;  it's  always  out  of  reach. 
Mysteries  have  to  be  respected  if  they  are  to  retain  their  power.  L'art  est  fait  pour  troubler:  la  science  rassure. 
If  there  is  no  mystery  then  there  is  no  'poetry",  the  quality  I  value  above  all  else  in  art.  What  do  I  mean  by 
■poetry'?  It  is  to  a  painting  what  life  is  to  man.  But  don't  ask  me  to  define  it;  it  is  something  that  each 
artist  has  to  discover  for  himself  through  his  own  intuition.  For  me  it  is  a  matter  of  harmony,  of  rapports,  of 
rhythm  and  —  most  important  for  my  own  work  —  of  'metamorphosis'.  I  will  try  to  explain  what  I  mean  by 
'metamorphosis".  For  me  no  object  can  be  tied  down  to  any  one  sort  of  reality.  A  stone  may  be  part  of  a 
wall,  a  piece  of  sculpture,  a  lethal  weapon,  a  pebble  on  a  beach  or  anything  else  you  like,  just  as  this  file  in  my 
hand  can  be  metamorphosed  into  a  shoe-horn  or  a  spoon,  according  to  the  way  in  which  I  use  it.  The  first 
time  the  importance  of  this  phenomenon  struck  me  was  in  the  trenches  during  the  first  World  War  when  my 
batman  turned  a  bucket  into  a  brazier  by  poking  a  few  holes  in  it  with  his  bayonet  and  filling  it  with  coke. 
For  me  this  commonplace  incident  had  a  poetic  significance;  I  began   to  sec  things  in  a  new  way. 

"Let  me  give  you  another  example.  You  go  to  lunch  at  a  friend's  house,  smell  the  meal  being  cooked, 
and  because  you  are  hungry,  say  to  yourself  'how  delicious".  But  after  you  have  eaten,  you  find  the  smell  that 
hangs  around  the  house  nauseating.  Yet  it  is  the  same  smell  as  before.  Everything  changes  according  to  cir- 
cumstances: that  is  what  I  mean  by  metamorphosis.  When  you  ask  me  whether  a  particular  form  in  one  ot  my 
paintings  depicts  a  woman's  head,  a  fish,  a  vase,  a  bird  or  all  four  at  once,  I  cannot  give  you  a  categorical 
answer,  for  this  'metamorphic"  confusion  is  fundamental  to  the  poetry.  It  is  all  the  same  lo  me  whether  a  form 
represents  a  different  thing  to  different  people  or  many  things  at  the  same  time  or  even  nothing  at  all:  it 
might  be  no  more  than  an  accident  or  a  'rhyme"  ■ —  a  pictorial  'rhyme"    by  the  way,  can    have  all  sorts  of  unex- 

*  Note:    The  following  statement,  based   on   conversations  which    the   author   has    had   at   various    limes   with    Braque,    is    an    excerpt 
from  an  article  that  appeared  in   The  Observer   (1   December,   1957). 


pected  consequences,  can  change  the  whole  meaning  of   a   picture  -  -  such  as   I  sometimes   like   to   incorporate 
in  my  compositions. 

"You  see,  I  have  made  a  great  discovery:    I  no  longer  believe  in  anything.     Objects  do  not  exist  for  me 

i  in  so  far  as  a  rapport  exists  between  them  and  between  them  and  myself.     In  other  words,  it  is  not  the 

objects  that  matter  to  me  but  what   is  in   between   them;  it  is  this  'in-between7  that  is  the  real  subject  of  my 

When  one  reaches  this  state  of  harmony  between  things  and  oneself,  one  reaches  a  sort  of  intellectual 

-  what  I  can  only  describe  as  a  state  of  perfect  freedom  and  peace  —  which  makes  everything  possible 

and  right.     Life  then  becomes  a  perpetual  revelation.     Ca,  rest  de  la  vraie  poes'ie" 

Anyone  acquainted  with  Zen-Buddhism  will  immediately  be  struck  by  analogies  between 
Braque's  ideas  and  some  of  its  tenets.  Was  this  resemblance  fortuitous,  I  once  asked  Braque,  for  I 
knew  that  he  had  been  intrigued  by  this  mystical  doctrine  long  before  it  had  been  made  fashionable 
by  the  Beatniks.  Braque  said  that  he  had  never  been  directly  influenced  by  Zen;  he  had  simply  been 
interested  to  discover  how  closely  it  corresponded  in  certain  respects  to  views  which  he  had  held 
for  most  of  his  life  and  which  he  had  originally  formulated  while  convalescing  from  a  war-wound 
in  1917-18.  He  admitted  that  he  had  never  really  studied  Zen;  all  he  had  read  were  books  by 
E.  Hcrrigel  (one  of  which,  Le  Tir  a  I 'Arc,  he  recently  illustrated)  and  by  the  westernized  Japanese, 
Daisetz  Suzuki — an  authority  who  is  not  taken  verv  seriously  by  the  Japanese.  Yet,  for  all  that 
Braque's  notions  of  Zen  are  highly  subjective  and  based  on  imperfect  understanding,  I  do  not 
think  we  can  properly  appreciate  the  artist's  recent  work  without  reference  to  it. 

Zen — or  rather  Braque's  idea  of  Zen — has  brought  into  the  open  some  latent  feelings  which 
had  never  emerged  before  and  heightened  others  to  which  the  artist  had  already  given  expression: 
for  instance  his  prejudice  against  anything  cut-and-dried,  didactic  or  cerebral.  Zen  has  also  en- 
couraged Braque  in  his  fatalism,  in  his  cult  of  solitude  and  mystery — an  essential  ingredient  of  the 
pictorial  poetry  which  he  values  so  highly — as  well  as  in  his  love  of  paradoxical  or  equivocal  effects. 
Furthermore,  it  has  confirmed  his  dependence  on  the  subjective  processes  of  intuition  and  reve- 
lation and.  above  all,  his  feeling  of  empathy.  For  Braque  has  an  almost  mystic  and  truly  Zen-like 
ability  to  experience  a  kind  of  spiritual  unity  with  whatever  he  may  be  painting,  regardless  of 
whether  this  is  animate  or  inanimate — a  bird,  a  cloud,  a  jug,  or  something  that  partakes  of  all  three, 
01  that  may  even  be  nothing  at  all.  However,  I  do  not  want  to  pursue  this  idea  any  further, 
because,  as  Braque  so  rightly  maintains,  there  is  no  logic  here,  and  whatever  we  try  to  pin  down 
we  destroy.  Instead  let  us  look  at  some  of  the  paintings  in  which  these  ideas  find  their  fullest 
expression — in   particular  the   magnificent  recent  series  of  Ateliers. 

In  order  to  understand  what  these  Ateliers  are  about,  we  should  try  to  visualize  them  in  rela- 

on  in  the  teal  thing:    to  the  various  studios   (two  in  Paris,  two  in  Normandy)  in  which,  for  reasons 

of  temperament  and  to  some  extent  of  health,  Braque  has  spent  most  of  the  last  fifteen  years  and 


Fig.  6  -  EUROPA  c.  1950.  Engraved  on  plaster. 

Private  Collection,  France. 

which  he  has  come  to  regard  as  a  kind  of  microcosm  of  the  whole  universe.  These  austere,  fastid- 
iously arranged  rooms  resemble  one  another  in  almost  every  respect,  while  being  as  different 
—above  all  in  atmosphere — from  other  artists'  studios  as  Buddhist  temples  are  from  Christian 
churches.  One's  first  impression  is  that  everything  is  blurred  or  veiled  and  in  a  constant  state  of 
flux.  Contrary  to  usual  practice,  the  huge  windows  face  south  instead  of  north,  so  that  the  light 
which  is  doublv  filtered  through  panes  of  white-washed  glass  and  curtains  of  fine  linen  is  never 
constant  and  never  entirely  clear.  Carefully  disposed  on  easels  and  stands  against  the  neutral 
background  of  curtains  which  divide  these  rooms  are  ever-changing  displays  of  paintings,  lithographs 
and  drawings,  framed  and  unframed.  in  various  stages  of  completion.  These  are  arranged  in  such 
a  way  that  the  artist,  who  is  nothing  if  not  a  perfectionist,  has  most  of  his  current  output  perma- 
nently before  his  eyes  and  can  go  from  one  picture  to  another  making  minute  adjustments,  or  sit 
for  hours  contemplating  them,  meditating  on  the  nature  of  art  and  reality  and,  as  he  says,  "painting 
pictures  in  my  head."  Elsewhere  in  the  studio  canvases  and  frames  are  stacked;  on  a  lectern  is  a 
pile  of  sketchbooks  which  Braque  claims  he  uses  as  "cookery-books"  to  provide  ideas  and  suggest 
subjects  for  compositions,  for  we  must  not  forget  that  since  1909  the  artist  has  never  worked 
directly  from  life.  Small  tables  are  laden  with  artists'  materials,  while  others  are  covered  with  pots, 
vases,  musical  instruments,  bowls  of  fruit,  pieces  of  sculpture,  objets  trouves,  philodendron  plants 
and  all  kinds  of  odds-and-ends  such  as  occur  in  his  still-lifes.  And  yet  somehow  the  total  effect  is 
not  contrived.  One  has  the  feeling  that  Braque  is  out  to  transform — or,  as  he  would  say,  meta- 
morphose— -his  chosen  surroundings  into  art.  So  successful  is  he,  indeed,  that  one  can  no  longer  be 
sure  where  everyday  reality  leaves  off  and  pictorial  reality  begins.  Could  it  be  that  the  painted 
Ateliers  are  more  real  than  what  they  represent? 

Time  and  again,  from  the  cubist  period  onwards,  Braque  has  discovered  subjects  for  his  pic- 
tures among  the  paraphernalia  of  his  studio.  Not,  however,  until  1936,  did  he  consciously  begin  to 
exploit  the  full  possibilities  of  his  surroundings  in  a  number  of  extensive  interior  scenes — salons 
and  music-rooms  as  well  as  studios — which  contain  one  or  two  usually  female  figures  painting 
pictures  or  playing  musical  instruments  (e.g.  plates  42  and  46).  These  figures  are  undeniably 
impressive,  but  even  Braque's  admirers  are  apt  to  admit  that  they  are  not  entirely  convincing 
representations  of  living  human  beings.  Braque  may  well  have  felt  the  same,  for  he  soon  eliminated 
them  and,  in  1938-39,  took  to  peopling  his  interiors  with  an  inanimate,  but  more  lively-looking, 
assemblage  of  studio-objects — easels,  cane  chairs,  skulls,  palettes,  set-squares,  canvases,  bottles,  fruit- 
dishes  and  pots  and  vases  of  flowers,  some  of  which  we  see  in  plate  44.  Interiors  or  glorified 
still-lifes  is  the  case  may  be,  the  major  paintings  of  this  immediately  pre-war  period  arc  more  or 
less  figurative  compositions  in  which  objects  retain  their  identities  and  most  of  their  physical  char- 


Fig.  7  -  TETE  DE  CHEVAL  c.  1946.  Bronze:  length  94  cm.  (37  in.) 

acteristics.  But  later,  during  the  war  years — years  of  solitude  and  sadness  for  Braque — the  artist's 
approach  to  such  subjects  became  more  equivocal,  more  "metamorphic".  Take,  for  instance,  the 
two  masterly  interiors  reproduced  on  plates  47  and  48,  works  which  presage  the  mood  of  the  later 
Ateliers.  How  arbitrary,  yet  how  effective  is  the  outline  of  the  easel  in  the  foreground  of  plate  47! 
Quite  apart  from  its  decorative,  compositional  role,  this  device  enables  the  spectator  to  identify 
himself  with  the  artist,  because  he  can  feel  that  he  is  actually  seeing  through  and  around  the  easel 
and  thus  in  physical  touch  with  the  objects  portrayed. 

<?  Even  more  arbitrary  is  an  interior,  Le  Salon  (Musee  d'Art  Moderne,  Paris),  which  Braque 
painted  two  years  later  (1944);  the  objects  on  the  right-hand  side  of  this  picture  have  melted  into 
one  another  and  merged  with  the  spatial  element  to  the  extent  of  becoming  indecipherable.  Yet 
this  remains  one  of  Braque's  most  memorable — and  I  would  even  say  real — recreations  of  a  room. 
From  this  same  period  date  the  superb  interiors  in  which  attention  is  focused  on  a  single  piece 
or  conglomeration  of  furniture:  for  example  the  stove  in  plate  49,  the  wash-stand  in  plate  50, 
the  rusty-looking  Tables  de  Cuisine  or  the  various  Billards   (plate  51  reproduces  the  most  impor- 


tant).  Thanks  to  Braque's  craftsmanly  feeling — amounting  to  a  kind  of  empathy — for  inanimate 
things,  and  his  ability  to  represent  a  commonplace  object  as  if  it  had  a  recognizable  identity  and 
organic  existence  all  its  own,  these  paintings  are  as  meaningful,  as  imbued  with  life  as  Chardin's 
Chocolatiere  or  Van  Gogh's  Yellow  Chair.  By  any  standard  they  are  masterpieces;  all  the  same 
they  do  not — to  my  mind,  at  least — have  as  great  a  claim  on  our  attention  as  the  eight  *  triumphant 
Ateliers  (1948-56)  which  they  immediately  precede,  for  the  Ateliers  constitute  an  entirely  new 
approach  to  visual  appearances. 

Nothing  in  these  Ateliers  is  ever  quite  what  it  seems:  sometimes  shadows  have  substance,  while 
things  of  snbstance  turn  out  to  be  shadows;  forms  are  flattened  and  flatness  is  given  form;  what  is 
hard  is  painted  as  if  it  were  soft;  what  should  be  opaque  appears  transparent  and  vice  versa;  objects 
arc  only  half  indicated,  or  they  merge  with  one  another,  become  something  else  and  disappear; 
patterned  surfaces  are  introduced  for  no  logical  reason,  while  lines  frequently  lead  nowhere  and 
define  nothing.  One  cannot,  therefore,  be  sure  whether  certain  configurations — for  instance  the  big 
jar-like  form  in  the  foreground  of  plate  62 — in  these  Ateliers  are  intended  to  be  real  objects, 
such  as  one  finds  lying  around  the  studio,  or  whether  they  refer  to  paintings  of  these  objects,  or 
whether  they  are  real  objects  in  the  process  of  becoming  painted  ones.  My  third  hypothesis  is  not 
as  far-fetched  as  it  might  at  first  appear;  such  is  Braque's  passion  for  equivocal  effects  that  he  is 
quite  capable  of  paying  oblique  tribute  to  the  mystery  of  artistic  creation — a  mystery  which 
fascinates  him  so  deeply  that  he  dreads  the  moment  when  a  painting  is  finished  and  the  creative 
process  comes  to  an  end.  The  bird,  which  appears  in  all  but  two  of  the  Ateliers,  raises  similar 
problems.  This  is  not  a  live  bird — Braque  would  hardly  allow  a  creature  the  size  of  an  albatross 
to  fly  around  his  studio — nor  has  it  any  symbolical  significance  ("z7  n'y  a  jamais  eu  aucun  symbole 
dans  ma  peinture"  insists  Braque).  It  is  simply  a  picture  within  a  picture,  a  reference  to  the 
large  canvas  (now  destroyed)  of  a  bird  in  flight  which  the  artist  had  painted  shortly  before  starting 
work  on  the  series.  There  is  another  good  reason  for  its  presence:  as  we  have  seen,  Braque  has 
always  been  obsessed  with  the  representation  of  space,  and  what  more  appropriate  theme  could 
such  an  artist  And  than  a  bird  in  flight?  The  sense  of  this  is  immediately  apparent  if  Ave  compare 
the  various  Ateliers;  whereas  in  Ateliers  II  and  77/  the  bird  is  clearly  a  "painted"  image,  in  later 
ones  (notably  in  Ateliers  V  and  J'lII)  it  detaches  itself  from  its  background  and  floats  freely  round 
the  loom,  thus  enlivening  the  spatial  element.  Then  in  the  final  version,  Atelier  IX  (plate  62), 
the  bird  returns  once  more  to  its  original  background,  where  its  fragmented  remains — shades  of 
cubism — ate  impaled  on  a  kind  of  cruciform  scaffolding. 

Although  numbered  [-IX,  the  Ateliers  in  fact  comprise  no  more  than  eight  paintings,  since  Nos.  VII  and  IX  refer  to  the 
same  picture,  1  Ins  account  of  the  scries  is  based  on  a  longer  analysis  by  the  author  which  appeared  in  The  Burlington  Mag- 
aiine    (June,   1955). 


Fig.  8  -    CEILING  IN  THE  LOUVRE  I  1953.  Oil  on  canvas:   211  X  272  cm.  (83  X  107  in.) 

I  have  singled  out  the  bird  for  attention,  because  it  is  the  most  prominent  and  also  the  most 
puzzling  ingredient  of  these  pictures,  but  other  elements  behave  no  less  capriciously.  Indeed,  each 
picture  is  both  a  law  unto  itself  and  a  reality  in  itself:  this  much  is  fundamental  to  Braque's 
aesthetic.  Braque  respects  no  system  of  pictorial  logic;  by  virtue  of  his  ability  to  create  a  magical 
"accord"  between  different  objects  and  the  space  around  them  as  well  as  between  the  various  rhymes, 
accidents  and  passages  of  decoration  that  play  such  important  supporting  roles  in  his  compositions, 
he  can — and  does- — permit  himself  every  liberty.  Colour,  texture,  form,  theme,  rhythm,  design — 
all  the  elements  are  perfectly  synthetized  in  the  Ateliers  as  in  a  symphony.  Analogies  between 
painting  and  music  are  generally  invidious,  but  no  student  of  Braque  can  afford  to  overlook  the 
significance  of  the  artist's  musical  talent  and  sensibility  (Bach  and  Satie  are  among  his  favourite  com- 
posers). Quite  apart  from  the  numerous  references  to  musical  instruments,  posters  and  scores  in 
his  still-lifes,  it  is  revealing  that  Braque  has  described  the  Ateliers  as  symphonic  works. 

I  hope  that  I  have  not  implied  that  of  late  Braque  has  been  turning  into  an  abstract  painter. 
Quite  the  reverse.     Braque  despises  the  bulk  of  contemporary  abstract  art.     Slick,  superficial  and 


mannered  are  some  of  the  adjectives  he  applies  to  it.  He  reproaches  most  non-figurative  artists 
with  not  having  the  guts  to  take  risks — in  Braque's  eyes  a  terrible  failing — and  with  avoiding  issues, 
above  all  the  crucial  issue  of  pictorial  reality.  For,  although  his  own  work  sometimes  seems  to 
suggest  the  contrary,  Braque  has  never,  even  at  the  most  hermetic  phase  of  cubism,  ceased  trying 
to  pin  down  reality.  His  starting-point  may  be  nothing  more  than  a  meaningless  arrangement  of 
coloured  forms,  but  his  picture  will  not  be  finished  until  these  coloured  forms  have  ceased  to  be  a 
mere  abstract  pattern,  that  is  to  say  have  "revealed  their  identity''  and  simultaneously  developed  an 
organic  pictorial  relationship  with  one  another,  as  in  the  Ateliers.  This  is  inevitably  a  slow,  com- 
plex and  excessively  risky  process,  depending  as  it  does  on  intuition  and  moments  of  revelation. 
Every  brushstroke  is  "a  gamble. 

Given  his  highly  idiosyncratic  approach  and  method  of  working,  it  is  not  surprising  that  Braque 
— who  is  old  and  in  poor  health — has  produced  relatively  little  in  recent  years  and  has  often  been 
obliged  to  abandon  or  destroy  a  picture  because  he  could  not  resolve  it.  A  case  in  point  is  a  canvas 
of  a  bird  hovering  which  the  artist  has  given  up — temporarily? — after  two  or  three  years  work. 
As  in  Balzac's  Le  Chef  d'GLuvre  Inconnu,  the  subject  of  this  painting  grew  progressively  less  and 
less  decipherable.  And  yet  the  less  decipherable  it  became,  the  fuller  was  the  experience  of  space 
that  it  conveyed.  Braque  once  complained  that  the  bird  was  "recalcitrant,"  that  it  "refused  to 
declare  itself."  Nevertheless  one  had  the  impression  that  the  whole  picture-surface  quivered  with 
the  fluttering  movement  of  wings  and  that  the  complicated  network  of  brush-strokes  added  up  to 
something  that  would  be  warm  and  feathery  to  touch.  Whether  this  extraordinary  picture  can 
ever  be  resolved  there  is  no  telling,  but  if  it  can  be,  it  will  surely  rank  among  the  most  exciting 
and  inventive  of  Braque's  recent  masterpieces.  Others  which  I  have  in  mind  are  the  large  Charrue 
(1960) — so  tangible  that  one  feels  it  could  be  cut  of  the  canvas  and  set  to  plough  a  furrow — and 
some  lyrical  skyscapes  (e.g.  plates  67  and  68)  in  which  a  bird  is  used  as  a  pretext  for  bringing 
the  firmament  within  our  reach.  The  latter  have  already  been  praised  for  their  tactile  qualities; 
however,  tactile  considerations  should  not  be  allowed  to  blind  us  to  the  mystery  and  poetry  of 
these  images.  The  more  we  look,  the  more  we  wonder:  are  these  really  clouds  or  moons  or  birds? 
Do  not  the  dark  silhouettes  in  plate  67  resemble  a  rocket  heading  through  outer  space  towards 
some  burnt-out  planet,  some  ball  of  vapour?  Likewise  the  moonlit  sky  in  plate  68:  this  has  such 
density  that  we  could  be  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea  looking  at  some  strange  winged  fish.  Even  the 
decorative  foliate  form  on  the  left — an  arbitrary,  but  integral  part  of  the  composition — can  be 
interpreted  in  different  ways:  as  a  tree,  a  lichen,  or  the  frond  of  some  waterplant.  It  is  this  "meta- 
morphic"  confusion,  so  carefully  nurtured  by  the  artist,  which  gives  these  pictures  their  power  to 
move  us,  to  haunt   our  memories. 


So  much  in  these  recent  paintings  is  equivocal  and  unfamiliar  that  it  is  hardly  surprising  that 
people  find  them  puzzling  and  esoteric.  But  anyone  who  is  willing  to  sink  himself  in  them  and 
search  out  their  special  qualities  will  come  to  realize  that,  like  some  of  Cezanne's  late  and  often 
unresolved  masterpieces,  they  are  the  expression  of  a  new  vision — above  all  a  painter's  vision— 
of  the  world.  Because  they  point  towards  a  solution  of  the  most  vexed  problem  in  art  today,  the 
schism  between  representational  and  non-representational  painting,  I  am  convinced  that  in  time 
they  will  prove  to  be  of  eye-opening  significance  for  other  artists.  By  reducing  objects  to  pictorial 
metaphors,  by  relegating  their  identities  to  the  melting-pot  and  dissolving  their  forms  in  a  new  kind 
of  space,  Braque  transcends  the  limitations  of  both  approaches. 


R.   Bissiere,  G.   Braque    (Paris,   1920). 

M.  Raynal,  G.  Braque    (Rome  and  Paiis.  1923). 

G.  IsARLOV,  G.  Braque    (Paris,  1932). 

Cahiers  d'Art,  1933,  Nos.  1-2   (Special  Number). 

C.  Einstein,  G.  Braque    (Paris,  1934). 
S.  Fumet,  Braque    (Paris,  1945). 

J.  Paulhan,  Braque  le  Patron    (Paris  and  Geneva,  1945-46). 
Cahier  de  Georges  Braque:    1917-47  (Paris,  1948). 

D.  Cooper,  Braque:  Paintings  1909-17    (London,   1948). 
H.  R.  Hope,  Georges  Braque   (New  York,  1949). 

S.  Fumet,  Sculptures  de  G.  Braque   (Paris,  1951). 

A.  E.  Gallatin,  Georges  Braque  (New  York,  1953). 

Le  Point,  October,  1953,  No.  46    (Special  Number). 

D.   Vallier,  Braque,  La  Peinture  ct   Mous    (Cahiers   d'Art,   No. 

J.    Richardson,    The   Ateliers    of   Braque    (Burlington    Magazine, 
June,  1955). 

Verve,  1955,  Carnets  Intimes  de  Georges  Braque  (Special  Number). 

D.  Cooper,     Catalogue    of    Braque     Exhibition     (Edinburgh     8: 
London,  195G). 

M.  Gieure,  G.  Braque    (Paris.   1956). 

M.  Gieure,  Georges  Braque:  Dessins    (Paris,  1956). 

J.  Richardson,  Interview  with  Braque   (Observer,  December   1st, 

E.  Encelberts,    Georges    Braque:    (Euvre    Graphique    Original 

(Geneva,  1958). 

J.  Richardson,  Georges  Braque    (London,  1959). 

J.  Russell,  Georges  Braque    (London,   1959). 

N.  Mangin,  Catalogue  de  I'CEuvre  de  Georges  Braque,  1948-1957 
(Paris,  1960). 



382   M.i\   13th:  Georges  Braque  bom  ;u  Argenteuil-sur-Seinc, 
only  son  of  a  peintre-decorateur. 

c.    1890  Family  moves  to  Le  Havre. 

S97  Attends    evening    classes    et    Ecole    des    Beaux-Arts,    Le 

1899  Leaves   school;    apprenticed    to    local   peintre-decorateur. 

[n    Paris    trains   as   craftsman;    also   attends   evening   art 

i    Awarded   craftsman's  diploma;   starts   military    service. 

_'  Demobilized;  decides  to  become  painter:  enrolls  at  Aca- 
demie  Humbert;  also  visits  Louvre  and  dealers'  galleries. 

1901   Rents    studio    in    Montmartre    and    works    on    his    own. 

1905  I  ms  opened"  (Braque*s  words)  by  room  of  fauve  paint- 
ings jln  Matisse,  Detain,  Vlaminck  etc.)  at  Salon 
d'Aitlomnt  .  enters  -fauve  orbit. 

I,  Spends    summer    with    Friesz    painting    fauve    views    of 
Antwerp,  winter  at  L'Estaqne  near  Marseille. 

1907  Exhibits  six  pictures  at  Salon  des  Independents  —  all 
sold:  spends  summer  at  La  Ciotat  and  L'Estaqne;  returns 
in  autumn  to  Paris,  disillusioned  with  fauvism;  signs 
contract  with  Kahnweiler;  very  impressed  by  Cezanne 
retrospective:  meets  Apollinaire  who  takes  him  to 
Picasso's  studio;  lust  shocked  then  influenced  by  De- 
moiselles d' Avignon. 

1908  Summer  at  L'Estaque  painting  the  first  cubist  landscapes; 
after  being  rejected  by  Salon  d'Automne,  these  are 
exhibited  by  Kahnweiler  at  Braque's  first  one-man  show. 

1909  Suramei  al  La  Roche-Guyon;  after  returning  to  Paris, 
forms  close  association  with  Picasso:  "Analytical"  cubism. 

1910  Summer  at  L'Estaque. 

1911  Summer  at  Ceret  (Pyrenees)  with  Picasso:  "Hermetic" 

1912  Marries  Marcellc  I.apre;  in  July,  joins  Picasso  at  Sorgues 
(near  Avignon),  where  he  rents  a  house,  his  summer 
quarters  for  the  next  fifteen  years;  in  September  executes 
first    papier    colic:    "Synthetic"    cubism. 

191  1  Spring:  Exhibition  of  38  pictures  in  Dresden  and  Berlin; 
summer  at   Sorgues   interrupted   by  mobilization. 

191  ">  May  11th:  Wounded  in  head  at  Carency  (Artois);  tem- 
porarily  loses  sight  but  recovers  after  trepanation;  long 
convalescent  e. 

1916  Summer:  Demobilized  with  Legion  d'Honneur  and  Croix 

lie     (  .  :,,         , 

1917  Summer  at  Sorgues:  begins  to  paint  again;  Leonce  Ro- 
senberg becomes  his  dealer. 

1919  Exhibition  at  Leonce  Rosenberg's  Galerie  de  I'Effort 
Modei  nc. 

1920  Kahnweiler  opens  Galerie  Simon  and  again  becomes 
Braque's  dealer. 

1922  Exhibits  IK  important  recent  woiks  at  Salon  d'Automne 
-   all   sold;    moves    from    Montmartre    to    Montparnasse. 

1923  Winter:    Diaghilev   commissions  decor   for  Les  Fdcheux. 

1924  Paul  Rosenberg,  Braque's  new  dealer,  holds  exhibition; 
moves  to  new  house  built  for  him  by  Auguste  Perret,  near 
Pare  Montsouris,  Paris. 

1925  Diaghilev  commissions  decor  for  Zephyre  et  Flore. 

c.    1928  Instead    of   going   south    to    Sorgues.    takes    to    spending 
summers  in  and  around  Dieppe;  paints  small  seascapes. 

1931  Builds  country-house  at  Varengeville   (near  Dieppe). 

1933  First  important  retrospective  at  Basel  and  publication 
of  first  serious  monograph    (Einstein). 

1934  Retrospective  exhibition  at  Brussels. 

1937  Awarded  first  prize  at  Carnegie  International,  Pittsburgh. 

1939-40  Retrospective   exhibitions    in    Chicago,   Washington    and 
Sair  Francisco. 

1940  June:  After  German  break-through,  takes  refuge  first 
in  Limousin,  then  in  Pyrenees;  returns  in  autumn  to 
Paris  where  he  remains,  working  in  isolation,  for  rest 
of  war. 

1944  Resumes   spending  summers  at  Varengeville. 

1945  Serious  illness;  stops  painting  for  several  months. 

1946  Exhibition   of  recent   work,  Tate   Gallery,   London. 

1947  Spring:  Serious  illness  (pneumonia);  first  exhibition  at 
gallery  of  his  new  dealer,  Aime  Maeght. 

1948  Publishes  Cahier  de  Georges  Braque:  1917-47,  a  col- 
lection of  thoughts  and  maxims  on  art:  exhibits  recent 
works  at  Venice  Biennale,  is  awarded  first  prize. 

1948-49  Large    retrospective   at    Cleveland    Museum   of   Art    and 
Museum  of  Modern  Art,  New  York. 

1949  Jouvet   commissions  decor   for   Moliere's    Tartuffe. 

1950  Exhibition  of  Ateliers  I-V  and  other  important  recent 
works,  Galerie  Maeght. 

1952-53  Executes     ceiling     decorations     for     Louvre's     Etruscan 

1953  Retrospective   exhibition   at   Berne   and   Zurich. 
1953-54  Serious   illness;   stops  painting  for  several   months. 

1954  Completes  stained  glass  windows  for  chinch  at  Varen- 
geville; publishes  illustrations  to  Hesiod's  Theogony, 
originally  commissioned   by  Vollard   in   1932. 

1956  Important  retrospectives  at  Edinburgh  and  London 
(Tate  Gallery). 

1957  Exhibition   of  recent   work,  Galerie   Maeght. 

1958  Retrospective  of  entire  graphic  woik,  Geneva:  small 
retrospectives  in  Rome,  where  he  is  awarded  prize,  and 
Venice  (Biennale). 

1959  Exhibition   of  recent   work,  Galerie   Maeght,   Paris. 

1960  Retrospective  at  Basel. 



PL.  1   -  LE  COTE  DE  GRACE,  HONFLEUR.  1905.  Oil  on  canvas:   50x60  cm.    (19  3/.x23  5/8  in)  Musee  des  Beaux-Arts,  Le  Havre. 

In  later  years  Braque  destroyed  most  of  his  early 
works,  but  the  jew  surviving  examples  —  either 
townscapes  (as  here)  or  portraits  of  relations  or 
friends  reveal    that    he    was   a    moderately 

talent  rd  sin  dent  who  expressed  Jiimself  in  an 
agreeable,  impressionistic  style  owing  much  to 
Corot,  early  Monet  and,  on  one  significant  occas- 

ion (a  large  portrait  of  his  mother  which  Braque 
recently  burnt),  to  Toulouse-Lautrec.  The  con- 
trast between  the  hesitant,  if  nicely  painted,  pic- 
ture above  and  the  dazzling  landscape  opposite 
proves  how  greatly  Braque's  style  benefited  from 
the  influence  of  Matisse  and  the  Fauves  as  well 
as  from  the  impact  of  the  Mediterranean  scene. 

PL.  2  -  L'ESTAQUE.   1906.  Oil  on  canvas:    46  X  38  cm.    (18  '/8  X  15  in. 

Private  Collection,  l',us<  I . 

PL.  3  -   LA  CALANQUE,  LA  CIOTAT.  Summer   1907.  Oil  on  canvas:   60x73  cm.    (23  5/s  X  28  3/^  in.)  Perls  Gallery,  New   York. 

When  Braque  exhibited  a  group  of  his  fauve 
landscapes  at  the  Salon  des  Independants  in  the 
spring  of  1907,  he  sold  I  hem  all.  Thus  encour- 
l,  he  relumed  at  once  to  the  Mediterra- 
nean, this  time  to  La  Ciotat,  between  Marseille 
and  Toulon.  The  landscapes  which  dale  from 
tins  second  visit  are  no  less  fauve  than  their 
predecessors,  but  are  less  naturalistic  and  more 

personal  and  experimental  than  before.  At  the 
end  of  the  summer,  Braque  returned  briefly  to 
L'Estaque,  where  he  and  his  old  friend,  Othon 
Friesz,  painted,  the  same  view  from  the  Hotel 
Mistral.  After  reluming  to  Paris  and  seeing  the 
Cezanne  Retrospective  at  the  Salon  d'Automne, 
he  repainted  his  view  (reproduced  opposite) 
from  memory  in  terms  of  form  rather  than  light. 

Pl.  4  -  VUEDE  LHOTEL  MISTRAL,  LESTAQUE.  Autumn  1907.  Oil  on  canvas:  80x60  cm.  (31i/2x235/g  in.)     Mr.andMrs.  Werner  E.J osten,  New  York. 

Pi  .5-N  VI  URE  MORI  1.  AUX  INSTRUMENTS  DE  MUSIQUE.  Autumn  1908.  Oil  on  canvas:  50  X  61  cm.  (H>3/4X  24  in.)      Monsieur  Georges  Braque  Paris, 

Braque  claims  tluit  the  still-life  above  is  his 
"first  cubist  painting",  because  it  is  the  first 
which  he  did  entirely  from  imagination  and 
not  from  life:  i.e.,  it  is  his  first  conceptual,  as 
opposed  to  perceptual,  work.  Once  liberated 
from  models,  Braque  could  take  whatever  pict- 

orial liberties  lie  liked.  Here,  for  instance,  he 
deliberately  distorts  the  slight  twist  in  the  neck 
of  the  mandoline  in  order  to  show  us  more  of 
the  object  than  the  eye  can  normally  see.  He 
repeats  the  same  device  luilh  the  guitar  in  the 
still-life  opposite. 

Pl.  6  -  GUITARE  ET  COMPOTIER.  1909.  Oil  on  canvas:   55  X  38  cm.  (21  V2  X  15  in.) 

Hermann  and  Margrit  Rupf  Stiftung,  Berne. 

I*i.  T     LA  RO(  III   (.1  VON,  !  I    CHATEAU.  Summer  1909.  Oil  on  canvas:  80x60  cm.  (313/4x235/8  in.)    Monsieur  Rolf  de  Mare,  Stockholm. 

"/  found  that  the  exaltation  which  had  overwhelmed 
rue  on  my  first  visit  and  which  I  had  put  into  my 
(fauve)  pictures  was  no  longer  the  same,"  Braque  has 
said  of  his  third  visit  (with  Raoul  Ihify)  to  L'Estaque, 
in  the  summer  of  1908;  "I  saw  something  else"  What 
he  saw  is  reflected  in  a  series  of  Cezannesque  landscapes 
-  like  the  one  opposite  —  works  which  gave  use  to 
the  word  "cubism".  The  following  summer.  Braqne 
went  to  I  .a  Roche-Guyon,  a  small  town  on  the  Seine 
near  Mantes,  and  painted   eight   masterly   landscapes 

—  including  the  one  above  —  of  the  watch-tvwer, 
viaduct  and  chateau  of  the  La  Rochcfoucaulds.  These 
carried,  cubism  a  stage  further.  In  1910,  Braque 
returned  once  more  to  L'Estaque  and  painted  a 
few  views  of  the  Rio  Tinto  factory.  But  by  that 
time  he  had  realized  that  the  cubist  conception  could 
be  better  expressed  in  terms  of  still-life.  It  is  a 
curious  coincidence  that  Cezanne  and  Renoir  had 
worked  together  both  at  L'Estaque  and  La  Roche- 

Pl.  8  -  LES  ARBRES  A  L'ESTAQUE.  Summer  1908.  Oil  on  canvas:   80  x  60  cm.  (313      .■  23s/     ;„.) 

Private  Collection.  France. 





PL.  9  -  NATURE  MORTE:   FOX.  1911.  Engraving:   55x38  cm.  (2lV2X  1"-  in. 

In  1911,  when  their  stylistic  resemblance  was  closest, 
Braque  and  Picasso  were  each  commissioned  by  Kahn- 
weiler,  then  denier,  to  do  a  large  engraving.  Both 
(hose  to  <l<>  n  still-life  incorporating  more  or  less  the 
same  elements;  and  the  resultant  engravings  —  Bra- 
que's  is  reproduced  above  -  ■  provide  the  clearest 
•ne  o\  the  artists'  attempt  to  eliminate  the 
personal  element  and  arrive  at  a  common  style.  But 
they  also  reveal  that  certain  fundamental  differences 
could  not  he  ironed  out.  The  Picasso  is  spontaneous 
and    summary:    the    work    of    a    draughtsman.        The 

Braque  is  tentative  and  travaille:  the  work  of  a 
painter.  And,  although  the  liandling  of  Fox  is  notably 
more  elaborate  and  varied  than  Picasso's,  it  would  be 
invidious  to  say  which  was  the  better  work.  Braque 
subsequently  executed  a  painting  (opposite)  which 
closely  follows  the  composition  of  the  engraving  and 
includes  the  same  references  to  cafe  life  -  a  bottle  of 
"Old  Tom"  gin,  a  glass,  a  saucer  marked  15  (cent- 
imes), a  playing-card,  a  packet  of  cigarettes  and  so 
forth.  The  letters,  Fox,  refer  to  Fox's  English  Bar,  a 
Parisian  rendez-vous  of  the  Cubists  and  their  friends. 

Pl.   10  -   BOUTEILLE  ET  VERRE.   1911.  Oil  on  canvas:    55x38  cm.    (21  '  2   X  15  in.)  Hermann  and  Margrii  Rupf  Stiftung,  Berne. 

Pl.  II  -  L'HOMME    \l    VIOLON.  Winter  1911.  Oil  on  canvas:   100x71  cm.   (391/*    :  28  in.) 

Heirs  of  Heri   Emil  Bilhrle,  Zurich. 

"7  he  point  o\  rwy  oval  compositions  was  that 
they  allowed  me  to  rediscover  the  contrast  be- 
en horizontals  and  verticals,"  Brarjuc  has 
mid.  At  the  same  tunc,  he  realized  that  an  oval 
format  would  make  his  compositions  more 
compact,   there   being   no  awkward   corners   to 

fill.  Later  Braque  experimented  with  irregular 
ovals  (e.g.  plates  17  and  18)  which  make  a 
pleasing  foil  for  the  flat  rectilinear  forms  of 
"Synthetic"  cubism;  he  also  framed  a  series  of 
still-lifes  in  octagonal,  almond,  lemon,  diamond 
and  eye  shapes. 

Pl.  12  -  L'HOMME  AU  GUITARE.  1914.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:   130x72,5  cm.   (51i/8X28i/    ;„.)      Monsieur  Andre  Lefevre,  Parit 

Pl.  13  -  NATURE  MORTE  AUX  DES.  1912.  Black  chalk:   25  X  32  cm.    (9  3/    x  12  V2  in.) 

Private  Collection,  France. 

"Again  with  my  usual  desire  to  get  as  near  to 
the  reality  of  things  as  possible,"  Braque  has 
said,  "1  started  to  introduce  letters  into  my 
pictures.  These  were  forms  which  could  not 
be  deformed,  because,  being  two-dimensional, 
/hex  existed  outside  three-dimensional  space; 
their  inclusion  in  a  picture  allowed  one  to 
distinguish  between  objects  which  w ere  situated 
in    space    and    those    which    belonged    outside 

space."  In  the  above  drawing  the  letters,  ROS, 
refer  to  a  sign  for  Vin  Rose  (30  centimes  a 
glass).  Note  hoiu  this  sign  is  fixed  to  the  wall 
by  a  trompe  l'oeil  nail  (with  shadow)  -  a  device 
that  points  up  the  contrast  between  an  object 
"situated  in  space"  and  one  "belonging  outside 
space",  as  well  as  the  contrast  between  the 
conventional  and  cubist  methods  of  spatial 


PL.   14  -  LA  BOUTEILLE  DE  RHUM.   1914.  Oil  and  charcoal  on  canvas:    46x55  cm.    (18V8;X211/2  '»•) 

Private  Collection,  Garches. 

PL.   15  -  VIOI.OX   ET  PIPE.  Winter   1912.  Collage  and   charcoal:   72x104  cm.    (28  1/    x  41   in ) 

Monsieur  Andre  Lefevre,  Paris. 





S^^^f^^S^f  fzUiMsSfi^z/z* 

Pl.  16  -  GUITARE  ET  CLARINETTE.  1918.  Collage,  charcoal  and  gouache  on  cardboard:    77  X  95  cm.    (30  */4  X  37  */2  in.) 

T/;e  Philadelphia  Museum  of   Art  (Louise  and   Walter  Arensberg  Collection). 

PL.  17      NATURE  MORTE  M    Gl  II  \  R  I     1913-14.  Oil,  charcoal  and  sand 

on  canvas:  55  X  38  cm.  (21  ^X  15  in.)    Private  Collection.  New  York. 

Pl.  18  -  NATURE  MORTE  AU  GUITARE.  1918.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:  91x55  cm.  (3!)3/4x215/8  in.)      Private  Collection,  France. 

PL.   19  ■  GUITARE,  JOURNAL  ET  VERRE,  1917.   India   ink:    18x27,5   cm.    (7  X  IQ3/,   in.) 

Private  Collection,  France. 

While  convalescing  from  his  war  wounds, 
Braque,  who  was  unable  to  paint,  formulated  a 
series  of  aphorisms  on  art  and  life,  ivhich  prov- 
ide a  number  o\  clues  vital  to  an  understanding 
<>\  Ins  work.  One  of  Ihese  maxims  is  always 
being  quoted  -  "J'aime  la  regie  qui  corrige 
I'emotion."  Bui  ii  is  characteristic  of  Braque's 
hire  oj  paradox  that  he  subsequently  emended 

this  by  adding  the  words,  "J'aime  I'emotion  qui 
corrige  la  regie"  —  a  truth  which  is  born  out 
by  his  later  work.  When  these  aphorisms  were 
published  in  the  literary  review,  Nord-Sud,  in 
lc>17 .  Braque  embellished  the  pages  with  draw- 
ings (one  of  ivhich  is  reproduced  above)  exe- 
cuted in  a  linear  technique  suited  to  cheap  and 
easy  reproduction  in  black-and-white. 

Pl.  20  -  LE  GUERIDON  NOIR.  1919.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:   75  X  130  era.    (29 1/8  X  51 1/8  in.) 

Musee  National  d'Art  Moderne,  Paris. 

Pi    21      CLARINETTE,  COMPOTIER  ET  GUITARE.  1918.  Oil  on  canvas:    73  X  100  cm.    (28  3/4  X  393  g  j„. 

Kunstmuseum,  Basel. 

Up  to  1914,  Braque  was  preoccupied  with 
solving  formal  and  spatial  problems  and  had 
neglected  the  sensuous  aspects  of  art.  After 
the  war,  however,  he  set  about  humanizing  the 
"Synthetic"  cubist  style  in  a  series  of  still-lifes 
which  are  more  naturalistic,  richer  in  colour 
and  texture  and  more  lyrical  in  feeling  than 
i hnr  austere  predecessors.  Instead  of  painting 
on  a  ivhite  or  neutral  ground,  Braque  now 
took  tf)  priming  his  canvases  with  black,  because 

this  gave  added  resonance  to  his  colours  and 
enabled  him  to  suggest  a  degree  of  depth 
without  resorting  to  three-dimensional  illu- 
sionism.  When  the  first  fruits  of  this  new  style. 
—  notably  the  Gueridons  (e.g.  plates  20  and 
22)  —  ivere  exhibited  at  Leonce  Rosenbergs 
Galerie  de  1'Effort  Moderne  in  March,  1919, 
Braque  was  at  last  acclaimed  in  Paris  as  a 
leading  modern  artist  with  a  personality  of 
his  own. 

Pl.  22  -  NATURE  MORTE  AU  GUERIDON:   "CAFE-BAR".  1919.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:   160  X  82  cm.  (63  X  321/i  in.)    Kunstmuseum,  Basel, 

Pi.  23  -  Coroi      TOR  TRAIT  DE  CHRISTINE  NILSSON.  1874.  Oil  on  canvas:  80x57  cm.   (311/2X221/,  in.)      Museu  de  Arte,  Sao  Paulo. 

The  exhibition  of  24  figure-paintings  by  Corot 
at  the  Salon  d'Automne  in  1909  was  a  revelation 
for  Braque  and  many  other  artists.  Corot's 
influence  manijested  itself  shortly  afterwards 
on  the  subject-matter  and  compositions  of  nu- 
merous cubist  figure-paintings  -  -  notably  those 
with  musical  instruments  (e.g.  plate  11)  — ■  by 
Braque  and  Picasso.  But  Braque 's  admiration 
for  Carol  has  persisted,  as  ivitness  the  Souvenir 
dc  Corot  (opposite),  ivhich   is  not  a  copy   but 

a  variation  on  one  of  Corot's  favourite  themes, 
and  also  the  various  compositions  (mid  -  1930' s) 
of  women-painters  and  musicians  in  interiors 
ivhich  are  reminiscent  of  Corot's  subjects,  if 
not  his  style.  It  is  perhaps  significant  that  Paul 
Rosenberg  organized  two  major  Corot  exhib- 
itions at  his  Paris  gallery  in  1928  and  1930 } 
tJiat  is  to  say  when  he  was  Braque' s  dealer;  also 
that  a  reproduction  of  Corot's  Christine  Nilsson 
is  pinned  to  the  wall  of  Braque' s  studio. 

Pi..  24  -  SOUVENIR  DE  COROT.  c.  1922-23.  Oil 

on  canvas:   41  X  33  cm.    (IGl/gX  13   in.) 

Monsieur  Georges  Braque,  Paris. 

PL.  25  -  l)l->l(,\    FOR   -IKS   FACHEUX"    (never  executed).   1921.  Pencil  and  watercolour. 

Wadsworth  Athenaeum,  Hartford. 

Before  1914  Braque  had  treated  the  human  body  as 

material  for  formal  analysis;  in  the  early  1920's,  he 
in  to  explore  its  sensuous  potentialities.  The  two 
monumental  Can£phorae  (figures  4  a  and  4  b)  paint- 
ed in  l'J22  announce  a  numerous  series  of  paintings 
i plate  26  is  one  of  the  finest)  and  large  drawings 
in  charcoal  and  sanguine  which  preoccupied  the  artist 
for    the    next    five    years.       Unlike    the    figures    of    the 

cubist  poind  or  of  the  I930's  which  are  mostly  clothed, 

these  giantesses  are  naked  01   lightly  draped,  and  they 

hold  baskets  of  fruit  in  place  of  musical  instruments. 
But  they  resemble  later  figure-paintings  in  that  much 
about  them  is  equivocal:  they  are  monumental  yet  deli- 
quescent, decorative  yet  imbued  with  life,  massive  yet 
flat.  While  working  on  the  series,  Braque  was  com- 
missioned by  Diaghilev  to  do  the  sets  for  Les  Facheux, 
a  ballet  with  music  by  Georges  Auric.  One  of  his  pro- 
jects for  a  drop-curtain  (reproduced  above)  was  based 
on  a  Caiu'phore  —  note  how  both  figures  are  framed  in 
dark  cloud-like  shapes  —  but  it  was  not  found  suitable. 

Pi..  2G  -  CAXEPHORE.   1925.  Oil    and   sand   on   canvas:    100x81   cm.  (39  V2  X  32  in.) 

National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington  {Chester  Dale  Collection). 

Pl.  _'7  -  ANEMONES.    1927.  Oil   and  sand  on  canvas. 

Private  Collection. 

Braque's  popularity  with  European  and  Amer- 
ican collectors  dates  \rom  the.  early  1920's  and 
was  due  in  great  measure  to  the  success  of  the 
cabinet  pictures  —  mostly  still-lifes,  rich  in 
texture,  sonorous  in  colour  and  often  exagger- 
atedly oblong  in  format  —  which  lie  began 
In  paint  soon  after  the  end  of  the  first  world 
war.  Iti  these  he  lends  to  eschew  the  uncom- 
promising style  of  his  bigger,  more  adventur- 
ous works  (or  a  naturalistic  idiom  I  hat  is  a 
blend     of     modern     and     traditional    elements. 

These  charming  paintings  are  one  of  the 
glories  of  the  French  still-life  tradition  —  the 
20th  century  equivalent  of  works  by  Chardin 
or  Desportes,  Manet  or  Cezanne.  Vases  of 
anemones  (as  above),  bowls  and  baskets  of 
peaches,  figs  and  grapes  (e.  g.  plates  31  a 
arid  b),  plates  of  oysters  and  mussels  and 
groups  of  musical  instruments:  these  and  other 
attributes  of  the  good  life  are  evoked  with 
a  sensuousness  usually  reserved,  for  the  human 

Pl.  28  -  BOUTEILLE,  VERRE  ET  FRUITS.   1924.  Oil  and  sand  on  panel:    53x55  cm.    (20 1/g'  X  21  %  in.) 

Lord  Amulree,  London. 

PL.  29  •  MANDOLINE,  VERRE,  PICHET  ET  FRUITS.  1927.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:  80x114  cm.  (3U/2x44l/8  in.)    Tate  Gallery,  London. 

Willi  a  small  repertory  of  still-life  objects 
Bran  lie  lias  managed  to  obtain  an  amazingly 
wide  range  of  effects.  The  composition  of  these 
two  still-lifes  is  virtually  the  same,  but  whereas 

the  one  reproduced  above  is  soft  and  deli- 
quescent in  treatment,  plate  30  is  conceiv- 
ed in  terms  of  the  flat  planes  of  "synthetic" 

Pl.  30  -  GUITARE,  PICHET  ET  FRUITS.  1927.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    73,5  X91,5  cm.    (29  X  3G  in.) 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  Schuster,  New  York. 

Pl.  31a  -   NATURE   MORTE  .MX  FRUITS.   1924.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:   26x65  cm.    (10i/4x251/2  in.) 

Private  Collection,  Switzerland. 

lb  -  (  ORBEI1  I  I    DE  FRUITS,   1925.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    18x46  cm.    (7  VH   X  18  '"■) 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Joseph  Pulitzer,  Jr.,  Saint  Louis. 

Pl.  32  -  COiMPOTIER,  BOUTEILLE  ET  VERRE.  1930.  Oil  on  canvas. 

Private  Collection. 



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PL.  33  -  LE  GUERIDON.  1928.  Oil   and  sand  on  canvas:    180x73  cm.    (70i/gx28  3/4    in.)  Saidenberg  Gallery,  New  York. 

Pl.  34  -  LE  GUERIDON.  c.   1928.  Oil   and  sand  on  canvas. 

Private  Collection,  Garcht 

PL.  35  -  LES  BAIGNEUSES.  1931.  Oil    on  canvas:    131  X  195,5  cm.    (51  i/2  X  77  in.) 

Mr.  Edward  Bragaline,  New  York. 

From  ll>12  onwards,  Braque  and  his  wife 
spent  most  of  their  summers  in  a  small  villa 
which  they  rented  at  Sorgues,  near  Avignon. 
But,  towards  the  end  of  the  1920's,  Braque 
began  to  weary  of  the  brilliant  meridional 
light  and,  for  a  change,  took  to  visiting  the 
Normandy  coast.  In  1931,  he  moved  into  a 
house  which  he  had  built  for  himself  at   Var- 

engeville,  near  Dieppe,  and,  except  for  the 
war  years,  he  has  spent  every  subsequent  sum- 
mer there.  This  change  of  residence  coin- 
cided with  a  change  of  style  and  subject-matter, 
bathers,  seascapes  and  beach-scenes  becoming 
favourite  themes.  Varengeville  continues  to 
supply  the  artist  with  subjects,  e.g.  plates  53 
and  54. 

l'L.  36  -  LES  FALAISES.   1938.  Oil    on   canvas:    50  X  65  cm.    (19  3/4  x  25  l/2   in.) 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  L.cigh  Block,  Chicago. 

Pl.  37  •  (OMI'OIIER  EI    VERRE.  1931.  Oil   on  canvas. 

Private  Collection. 

Pl.  38  -  NATURE  MORTE  AUX  POMMES.   1933.  Oil    on   canvas:    89x116,5  cm.  (35x45  3/     in.) 

Galerie  Maeght,  Paris. 

•    - 

ft.  2  -•  ■*-■:&*. 


PL.  39  -  LA  NAPPE  ROUGE.  1933.  Oil    and  sand  on  canvas:  96,5x130  cm.  (38x51  in.) 

Waller  P.  Chrysler,  Warrenton,  Virginia. 

Pl.  40  -  NATURE  MORTE  A  LA  MANDOLINE.  1938.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    114  X  146  cm.  (44i/8  X  57  */2   in.) 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leigh  Block,  Chicago. 

PL.   11   -  Bl  VIE  DE  FEMME.  c.  1937.  Black  chalk:    19  x  13,5  cm.   (7  i/g  X  5  l/4 

Monsieur  Georges  Braque,  Paris. 

"Profile  and  silhouette:  evolution  and  progress"  — 
this,  one  of  Braque's  more  puzzling  aphorisms,  docs 
not  really  explain  why  the  artist  divides  his  pomes 
vertically  down  the  middle  into  a  dark  and  light  area. 
Some  critics  have  rashly  suggested  that  he  was  hinting 
at  a  psychological  duality;  but  the  true  explanation, 
as  nearly  always  with  Braque,  is  a  pictorial  one.  The 
double  profile  is  a  device,  deriving  from  cubism,  which 
"ts    the   artist    to   indicate   form    without    recourse 

to  modelling  and  perspective,  to  confront  the  spectator 
with  two  aspects  of  a  figure  simultaneously,  to  arti- 
culate an  otherwise  flat  plane  and  to  enhance  the  de- 
corative effect.  Braque's  attempt  to  humanize  his  work 
by  introducing  figures  into  his  compositions  lasted  from 
1936  until  1939.  Subsequently  he  has  virtually  abandon- 
ed figure-pictures,  but  —  paradoxically  —  his  interiors 
have  become  the  more  imbued  with  life  for  being  peopl- 
ed with   inanimate  objects  instead  of  human   beings. 

Pl.  42  -  LE  DUO.  1937.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:   130  X  160  cm.  (31  i/g  X  63  in.) 

Musee  National  d'Art  Moderne,  Paris. 

Pi.  43      MATURE  MORTE  A  LA  PALETTE.  1943.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:   50X61  cm.    (193     X  29  jn.) 

Galerie  Nathan,  Zurich. 

Note  how  Braque  used  sand  in  different  ways  to 
the  surfaces  oj  these  two  paintings.  In  the 
still-life  above  the  jug  is  built  up  with  a  very 
thick  impasto,  so  that  it  stands  out  in  high  relief 
and  has  a  rich,  tactile  quality.    In  plate  44,  on 

the  other  hand,  the  artist  has  primed  the  whole 
of  his  canvas  with  a  mixture  of  sand  and  gesso 
which  gives  a  dry,  matt  surface  like  a  fresco.  Note 
also  how  he  has  run  a  comb  through  the  paint  in 
the  background  in  imitation  of  wood-graining. 

Pi..  44  -  NATURE  MORTE  A  LA  PALETTE.  1939.  Oil     and  sand  on  canvas. 

Private  Collection. 

Pi.  45  -  VANITAS.  1938.  Oil   on  canvas:    54x65  cm.  (21  1/i  X  25 1/2  in.) 

Galerie  Charpentier.  Paris. 

In  1938  Braque  embarked  on  a  series  of  still 
lifes  entitled  Valutas,  because  their  subject- 
matter  includes  such  traditional  reminders  of 
mortality  as  rosaries,  skulls,  mirrors  and  cru- 
cifixes. These  allegories,  which  were  inspired 
by  17th  century  Dutch  still-lifes,  are  sometimes 
said  lf>  have  been  intended  as  oblique  tributes 
on  the  part  of  the  artist  to  his  wife's  piety. 
Braque,  however,  has  categorically  denied  the 

presence  of  symbols  in  his  work.  It  would 
seem  that  the  tactile  possibilities  of  these  objects 
interested  him  more  than  their  philosophical 
or  religious  connotations.  This  and  the  paint- 
ing opposite  reveal  the  degree  of  Braque 's  ob- 
session with  patterned  surfaces  in  the  late  1930's. 
"Ornamentation"  lie  has  said,  "helps  to  free 
colour  from  form."  Papier  colle  (collage)  ser- 
ved a  similar  pictorial  purpose. 

Pl.  46  -  PEINTRE  ET  MODELE.  1939.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    130  X  175  cm.    (51  X  69  in. 

Waller  P.  Chrysler,   Warrenton,  Virginia. 

Pi.  47  •  L'IMERIEUR:   LA  TABLE  GRISE.  1942.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:   142  X  196  cm.  (55  V8  X  77%  in.)    Private  Collection,  Houston. 

When  the  Germans  invaded  France  in  1940, 
Braque  left  Paris  and  took  refuge  in  the  Pyr- 
enees, but  in  the  autumn  he  returned  to  the 
capital.  Fearing  that  his  house  might  be  com- 
mandeered, the  artist  did  not  move  from  Paris 
(or  the  rest  of  the  war.  Inevitably,  a  feeling 
oj  isolation  and  seclusion  communicated  itself 
to  his  work,  as  zvitness  the  somewhat  melancholy 
and  claustrophobic  interiors  —  bedrooms, 
kitchens,  studios,  salons  or  bathrooms  (e.g. 
plate  50 )  -  -  which  he  painted  between  1941 
and  1945.  After  the  war  he  continued  to  exe- 
cute  similar  subjects,  but  the  atmosphere  is  less 

oppressive.  Here  are  two  versions  of  one  of 
Braque 's  finest  wartime  interiors.  The  first 
(opposite)  is  little  more  than  a  subtle  arrange- 
ment of  coloured  planes.  The  second  (above) 
is  more  atmospheric  and  complex;  passages 
of  decoration  and  heavy  impasto  have  been 
introduced,  and,  the  outline  of  the  top  of  an 
easel  has  been  superimposed  on  the  compos- 
ition. This  device  enables  the  spectator  to 
identify  himself  with  the  artist  and  thus  feel 
that  he  is  actually  seeing  through  and  around 
the  easel,  and  in  physical  touch  with  the  objects 

PL.  48  -  LTNTERIEUR:    LA  TABLE  GRISE.   1941.  Oil    and  sand  on  canvas:    100  x  100  cm.  (393  g  x  39  3/    jn.) 

Private  Collection,  Italy. 

Pi .  19  -  LE  POELE.  1944.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:  146  X  89  cm.  (571  2  x  35  in.)     Private  Collection. 

Pl.  50  -  LA  TOILETTE  AUX  CARREAUX  VERTS.  194").  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    162  x  64  cm.  (63  V8  X  25  i      in.) 

Phillips  Memorial  Gallery,   Washington. 

«*      '» 

Pl.  51  -  SKETCH   FOR  "LE  Kill. ARD".  c.  1944.  Black  chalk. 

Monsieur  Georges  Braque,  Paris. 

In  1944  Braque  started  work  on  a  series  of  Billiard 
Table-,,  a  series  which  was  frequently  interrupted  by 
illness.  A  notable  feature  of  these  paintings  is  a  vert- 
ical or,  as  here,  horizontal  bend,  which  articulates  the 
table-top  and  forces  the  sulfate  of  it  forwards  at  the 
spectator.  If  we  compare  the  sketch  above  with  the 
painting   opposite  —   the   culminant   picture   of   the 

series  —  we  will  be  able  to  appreciate  Braque 's 
"metamorphic"  way  of  working.  The  fish  bowl 
(top  left)  lias  turned  into  what  may  be  a  telephone; 
the  window  at  the  back  has  become  a  framed  mirror 
or  picture;  while  tlie  lighting-fixture  has  merged 
with  a  hat-stand  and  the  "rhyming"  outline  of  the 
hack  of  a  chair. 

PL.  52  -  LE  BILLARD.  1944-52.  Oil    and  sand  on  canvas:    195  X  97  cm.  (76%  X  38  1  4    in.) 

Mr.   Jacques  Gellman,  Mexico  City. 

Pl.  53  -  LE  CHAMP  HE  BLE.  1950.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:   36,5  X  56  cm.  (14  1/.  X  22   in.) 

Herr  Gustav  Zumsteg,  Zurich. 

Pl.  54  -  BARQUES  SUR  LA  PLAGE.  1949.  Oil  on  canvas:  46  X  (31   cm.  (18  i/8  X  24  in.) 

Mr.  Crozer  Mat /in,  Celigny. 

Pi  .55-  II.  PHILODENDRON.  1951  52.  Oil  and  s.ind  on  canvas:  129,5x74  cm.  (51x29  1      in.)  Phillips  Memorial  Gallery,  Washington. 

Pl.  56- LA  BICYCLETTE.  1951-52.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:  133x78  cm.  (521/4X30    /,  in.)  Monsieur  Menachem  Rosensajt,  Montr  eux. 

Pl.  57   ■  XL'  ALLONGE.  1934.  Engraving:    18  x  30  cm.  (7  X  1 1  3  ,  in.) 

I)t  1930-31  when  his  style  and  subject-matter 
were  undergoing  radical  changes,  Braque  em- 
barked on  a  series  of  Baigneuses,  in  which  the 
female  figure  is  reduced  to  a  simplified  pattern 
of  flat  arabesques  and  free,  swirling  contours. 
Some  of  these  (e.g.  plate  35)  are  interest- 
ing experiments  in  a  decorative  vein;  others 
do  not  seem  to  have  pleased  the  artist,  for  in 
recent  years  he  destroyed  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant and  repainted  two  others,  one  of  which 
ime  the  picture  on  the  opposite  page. 
Thanks    to    the   engraving    reproduced    above, 

which  gives  us  a  rough  idea  of  the  original 
appearance  of  the  Femme  Couchee,  it  is  possible 
to  see  that  the  basic  forms  have  not  greatly 
changed.  The  artist  has  simply  re-interpreted 
theni  in  an  idiom  which  harks  bach  to  "Analyt- 
ical" cubism  and  yet  is  a  free  and  arbitrary 
as  that  of  the  late  Ateliers.  As  a  result,  the 
Femme  Couchee  conveys  a  far  greater  experience 
of  form  and  space  than  the  other  Baigneuses 
of  1930-31;  moreover,  it  is  a  unique  work;  for 
like  no  other,  it  synthetizes  three  phases  —  early, 
middle,  and  late  -  -  of  Braque's  development. 

Pl.  58  -  FEMME  COUCHEE.  1930-52.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:   73  x  180  cm.  (28  3/   x  70  l/8   in.)  Galerie  Maeght,  Paris. 


*  * 

PL.   ".'I  •   PAGE  1)1    CAHIER.  c.   1917.  India   ink. 

Like  plate  58,  Ajax  (opposite)  also  relates 
to  the  <>u rial  period,  1930-31,  when  Braque's 
art  branched  out  in  fresh  directions.  One  of 
the  new  techniques  winch  he  developed  was 
to  engrave  slabs  of  painted  (usually  black)  plast- 
er with  a  hieroglyphic  design  representing  a 
mythological  deity.  Braque  first  tried  out  this 
technique,  which  derives  from  pre-classical 
Greek  intaglios,  in  a  group  of  four  decorative 
murals  (1932),  then  shortly  afterwards  executed 

a  large  painting  (Odysseus)  and  a  series  of 
engravings  to  illustrate  Hesiod's  Theogonie  in 
the  same  linear  style.  Most  of  the  platres 
graves  (e.g.  figure  7)  and  lithographs  (e.g.  the 
Helios  series:  1946-47)  of  similar  mythological 
subjects  are  decorative  objects  or  pleasing 
ideograms.  Ajax.  however,  transcends  the 
decorative  limitations  of  the  genre;  it  is 
one  of  Braque's  most  original  and  equivocal 

Pl.  60  -  AJAX.   1949-54.  Oil  on  paper:    180x72  cm.    (70  l/s  X  28  V4  i»)  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sam  Marx,  Chicago. 

Pl.  <>1   -  ATELIER  VII    (unfinished  state),    il'hoto  Doisneau). 

The  above  photograph  shows  the  artist  at  work 
on  this  picture  in  1953  when  it  was  his  seventh 
Atelier.    He  subsequently  painted  Atelier  VIII, 

the  culminant  painting  of  the  series,  and  then 
reworked  this  one  into  its  definitive  form  (see 
opposite)  to  which  the  number  IX  was  assigned. 

PL.  62  -  ATELIER  IX   (ex-VII).  1952-56.  Oil  on  canvas:    145,5  X  146  cm.  (57  1  4  X  57  1  2   in.) 

Galerie  Maeght,  Paris. 

Pi.   63    •    L'OISEAU    ET   SON    MD.    1957.   Watercolour,   gouache,   pencil  and  India  ink:    21,5X28,5  cm.    (8  '  2  X  1 1  V4  in0     Private  Collection,  fiance. 

Since  1945  birds  have  played  an  increasingly 
important  role  in  Braque's  art.  After  being 
a  dominant  element  in  the  Ateliers,  they 
provided  the  subject  for  the  Louvre  ceiling 
'figure  8)  in  1952-53,  and  for  a  decoration  in  a 
villa  at  Saint-Paul-de-V ence  in  1954.  Then, 
in  the  early  summer  of  1955,  Braque  visited 
the    bird-sanctuary    in    the    Camargue    belong- 

ing to  his  friend  Lukas  Hoffmann,  and  urns 
greatly  impressed  by  the  spectacle  of  flamin- 
gos, egrets  and,  other  birds  flying  about  under 
a  heavy  shy.  This  experience  indirectly  in- 
spired a  number  of  works  in  different  media, 
including  A  Tire  d'Aile  (plate  67)  and 
these  ttvo  evocations  of  a  bird  alighting  on 
its  nest. 

Pl.  64  -  L'OISEAU  ET  SON  NID.  1957-58.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    113  X  131  cm.  (44  i ■„  X  51  i  0  in.) 

Monsieur  Georges  Braque,  Paris. 

PL.  65  •   NATURE  MORTE  A  LA  SERVIETTE,  c.  1947.  Oil    on    paper   mounted    on    canvas:    49x63    cm.    (19  */4  X  24  3/^   in.)  Matthiesen  Gallery,  London. 

Pl.  66  -   PICHET,  HUITRES  ET  SERVIETTE.   1954-57.  Oil  on  canvas:    60  X  73  cm.    (23  5  8  X  28  3/8  in.) 

Mile.  Marietta  Lacliand,  Paris. 


K        > 

Pi .  67  -  A  TIRE  D'AILE.  1956.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas  mounted  on  three-ply:   115  X  171  cm.  (45  1i.  X  67  1/4   '»•)       Monsieur  Georges  Braque,  Paris. 

Pi.  68  -  LOISEAU.  1958.  Oil  on   canvas:    82x1.63   cm.    (32V,  X  64  1  .  in  1  r   ,     ■     **       u      „     ■ 

<*  -1        '  Galerte  Maeght,  Paris. 



Le  Cote  de  Grace,  Honfleur.  1905.  Oil  on  canvas:  50  X  60  cm.  (19  7„  X  23  Vs  in.)  -  Musee 

ties  Beaux-Arts,  Le  Havre Plate     1 

L'Estaque.  1906.  Oil  on  canvas:   46x38  cm.  (18  7g  X  15  in.)  -  Private  Collection,  Basel    .         Plate     2 

La  Calanque,  La  Ciotat.  Summer  1907.  Oil  on  canvas:    60x73   cm.  (23  7S  x  28  74   in.)   - 

Perls  Gallery,  New  York Plate     3 

Vue  de  VHotel  Mistral,  L'Estaque.  Autumn  1907.  Oil  on  canvas:   80x60  cm.  (3r/.,x237s 

in.)  -  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Werner  E.    Josten,  New  York Plate     4 

Nature   morte   aux    instruments    de    niusique.  Autumn    1908.   Oil   on  canvas:    50  X  61    cm. 

(19  74x24  in.)  -  Monsieur  Georges  Braque,  Paris Plate     5 

Guitare  et  compotier.  1909.  Oil  on  canvas:   55  x  38   cm.    (   217.,  x  15   in.)  -   Hermann   and 

Margrit  Rupf  Stiftung,  Berne Plate     6 

La  Roche-Guyon,  Le  Chateau.  Summer  1909.  Oil  on  canvas:  80  X  60  cm.  (31  74  x  23  5/s  in.) 

-  Monsieur  Rolf  de  Mare,  Stockholm Plate     7 

Les  Arbres  a  L'Estaque.  Summer   1908.  Oil  on  canvas:    80x60  cm.   (SI  74  X  23  7S   in.)   - 

Private  Collection,  France Plate     8 

Nature  morte:   Fox.    1911.   Engraving:    55x38  cm.  (21  7.,  x  15  in.) Plate     9 

Bouteille  et  verre.    1911.  Oil  on  canvas:    55x^8    cm.    (21  '/.,  x  15    in.)    -    Hermann    and 

Margrit  Rupf  Stiftung,  Berne Plate   10 

L'homme  au  violon.  Winter   1911.  Oil  on  canvas:    100x71   cm.   (39  i/4  x  28  in.)  -  Heirs 

of  Herr  Emil  Biihrle,  Zurich Plate  1 1 

L'homme  au  guitare.   1914.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    130x72,5  cm.   (51  1/   X  28 1/    in.)  - 

Monsieur  Andre  Lefevre,  Paris Plate  12 

Nature  morte  aux  des.  1912.  Black  chalk:  25x32  cm.  (9  74X12  7„  in.)  -  Private  Col- 
lection, France     Plate  13 

La   bouteille  de  rhum.   1914.  Oil  and  charcoal  on  canvas:  46  x  55  cm.  (18  78  x  21  7.,  in.)  - 

Private  Collection,  Garches Plate   14 

Violon  et  pipe.  Winter  1912.  Collage,  and  charcoal:  72  x  104  cm.  (28  74  x  41  in.)  -  Mon- 
sieur Andre  Lefevre,  Paris Plate  15 

Guitare  et  clarinette.  1918.  Collage,  charcoal  and  gouache  on  cardboard:  77  x  95  cm. 
(30  74  x  37  7S  in-)  -  The  Philadelphia  Museum  of  Art  (Louise  and  Walter  Arensberg 
Collection) Plate  16 

Nature    morte    au    guitare.    1913-14.    Oil,    charcoal    and    sand    on    canvas:     55x38    cm. 

(21  7.,  X  15   in.)  -  Private  Collection,   New  York Plate  17 

Nature  morte  au  guitare.  1918.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:   91  x  55  cm.  (35  74  x  21  78  in.)  - 

Private  Collection,  France Plate  18 

Guitare,  journal  et  verre.  1917.  India  ink:  18x27,5  cm.  (7xl074  in.)  -  Private  Col- 
lection, France Plate  19 

Le  gueridon  noir.  1919.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:   75  x  130  cm.  (29  7.,  x  51  78  in.)  -  Musee 

National  d'Art  Moderne,  Paris Plate  20 

Clarinette,  compotier  et  guitare.     1918.  Oil  on  canvas:   73x100  cm.  (28  3/4  x  39  3/s  in-)  - 
kunstmuseum,  Basel Plate  21 

Nature   morte  au  gueridon:   "Cafe-Bar".    1919.    Oil    and    sand    on    canvas:     160  x  82    cm. 

(63x32]/4  in.)  -  Kunstmuseum,  Basel Plate  22 

Corot  -  Portrait  de  Christine  Nilsson.  1874.  Oil  on  canvas:    80  x  57  cm.  (31  7„  x  22  72  in.) 

-  Museu  de  Arte,  Sao  Paulo Plate  23 

Souvenir  de  Corot.  c.   1922-23.  Oil  on  canvas:    41x33   cm.   (16  7sxl3   in.)   -   Monsieur 

Georges  Braque,  Paris Plate  24 

Design  for  "Les  Fdcheux"    (never  executed).   1924.  Pencil   and  watercolour  -  Wadsworth 

Athenaeum,  Hartford Plate  25 

Canepkorc.    1925.   Oil   and  sand  on  canvas:    100x81  cm.  (39  7.,  x  32  in.)  -  National  Gal- 
lery of  Art,  Washington    (Chester  Dale  Collection) Plate  26 

Anemones.  1927.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas  -  Private   Collection Plate  27 

Bouteille,  verre  et  fruits.   1924.  Oil  and  sand  on  panel:    53x55  cm.   (20  7g  X  21  78  in.)  - 

Lord  Amulree,  London Plate  28 

Mandoline,    verre,    picket    et    fruits.    1927.    Oil     and     sand     on     canvas:     80x114     cm. 

(31  7.,      11  7s  in.)  -  Tate  Gallery,  London Plate  29 

Guitare,  picket   et  fruits.    1927.   Oil   and   sand   on   canvas:    73,5  x  91,5   cm.    (29  x  36    in.) 

-  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lincoln  Schuster,  New  York Plate  30 

Nature  morte  aux  fruits.   1924.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:   26x65  cm.  (10  74x25  72  in-)  - 

Private  Collection,  Switzerland Plate  31  a 

Corbeille  de  fruits.  1925  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    18x46  cm.   (7  78  x  18   in.)  -  Mr.   and 

Mrs.  Joseph  Pulitzer,   Jr.,  Saint  Louis Plate  31  b 

Compotier,  bouteiile  et  verre.   1930.  Oil  on  canvas.  -  Private  Collection Plate  32 

Le  gueridon.    1928.   Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    180x73   cm.    (70  7s  x  28  74    in.)   -   Saiden- 

berg  Gallery,   New  York Plate  33 

Le  gueridon.  c.    1928.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas  -  Private  Collection,  Garches  ....         Plate  34 

Les  baigneuses.    1931.   Oil  on  canvas:    131  x  195,5  cm.  (51  7,  x  77  in.)  -  Mr.  Edward  Bra- 

galine,  New  York Plate  35 

Les  falaises.    1938.   Oil  on  canvas:    50x65  cm.   (19  7„x25  7,  in.)  -  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leigh 

Block,  Chicago Plate  36 

Compotier  et  verre.   1931.  Oil  on  canvas  -  Private  Collection Plate  37 

Nature  morte  aux  pommes.  1933.  Oil  on  canvas:  89  x  116,5  cm.  (35  x  45  V4  in.)  -  Galerie 

Maeght,  Paris Plate  38 

La  nappe  rouge.  1933.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    96,5  x  130  cm.    (38  x  51    in.)  -  Walter  P. 

Chrysler,  Warrenton,  Virginia Plate  39 

Nature  morte  a  la  mandoline.  1938.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:  114x146  cm.  (447SX577„  in.) 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leigh  Block,  Chicago Plate  40 

Buste  de  femme.  c.   1937.  Black  chalk:    19  x  13,5  cm.  (7  1/2  X5 1/t  in.)  -  Monsieur  Georges 

Braque,  Paris Plate  41 

Le  duo.   1937.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    130  x  160  cm.   (51  7S  x  63  in.)  -  Musee  National 

d'Art  Moderne,  Paris Plate  42 

Suture  morte  a  la  palette.   1943.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    50x61   cm.  (19  7„x29  in.)  - 

Galerie  Nathan,  Zurich Plate  43 

Nature  morte  d  la  palette.   1939.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas  -  Private  Collection       .       .       .         Plate  44 

Vanitas.  1938.  Oil  on  canvas:  5-1x65  cm.  (21  ',  4  x  25 '/.,  in.)  -  Galerie  Charpentier,  Paris        Pi  vte  45 

Peintre  et  modele.   1939.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    130  x  175  cm.    (51  x  69  in.)  -  Walter 

P.  Chrysler,  Warrenton,  Virginia Pi  vie  46 

L'interieur:  La   table  grise.   1942.  Oil  and  sand   on   canvas:    1  -12  x  196   cm.    (55  '/s  x  77  7S 

in.)  -  Private  Collection,  Houston Plate  47 

L'interieur:  La   tabic  grise.    1941.   Oil   and   sand  on  canvas:    100  X  100  cm.  (39  7S  x  39  7S 

in.)  -  Private  Collection,  Italy Plate  48 

Le  Poele.   1944.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    146x89  cm.  (57  '/.,  X  35  in.)  -  Private  Collection  Plate  49 

La  toilette  aux  carreattx  verts.   1945.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    162x64  cm.  (63  '/s  x  25  74 

in.)  -  Phillips   Memorial  Gallery,  Washington Plate  50 

Sketch  for  "Le  billard".  c.   1944.  Black  chalk  -  Monsieur  Georges  Braque,  Paris    .       .       .         Plate  51 

Le  billard.   19-11-52.  Oil  and  sand  on  canvas:    195x97  cm.  (76  74  x  38  '/„  in.)  -  Mr.  Jac- 
ques Gellman,  Mexico  City Plate  52 

Le  champ  de   ble.   1950.   Oil   and   sand  on   canvas:    36,5x56   cm.    (147,  X  22    in.)   -   Herr 

Gustav  Zumsteg,  Zurich Plate  53 

Barques  sur   la   plage.    1949.   Oil   on   canvas:    46  x  61    cm.    (18  78  x  24    in.)    -    Mr.    Cro/er 

Martin,  Celigny Plate  54 

Le    plulodendron.    1951-52.    Oil    and    sand    on   canvas:    129,5x74   cm.   (51  x  29  74   in.)   - 

Phillips  Memorial  Gallery,  Washington Plate  55 

La    bicyclcttc.    1951-52.   Oil   and   sand   on    canvas:    133x78  cm.  (52  74  x  30  74  in.)  -  Mon- 
sieur Menachem  Rosensalt,  Montreux Plate  56 

Nu  allonge.   1934.  Engraving:    18  x  30  cm.    (7x11  */t  in.) Plate  57 

Femme    couchee.    1930-52.    Oil    and    sand    on   canvas:    73x180  cm.    (28  74  x  70  7S   in.)   - 

Galerie  Maeght,   Paris Plate  58 

Page  du  cahier.  c.  1947.  India  ink Plate  59 

Ajax.   1949-54.  Oil  on  paper:    180x72  cm.   (70  7s  x  28  74  in.)  -  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sam  Marx, 

Chicago Plate  60 

Atelier   I'll    (unfinished  slate).    (Photo  Doisneau) Plate  61 

Atelier  IX   (ex.-VII).    1952-56.   Oil   on   canvas:    145,5x146   cm.    (57  7,  x  57 '/.,   in.)   -   Ga- 
lerie Maeght,  Paris Plate  62 

L'oiscau  et  son  nid.  1957.  Watercolour,  gouache,    pencil    and   India    ink:    21,5x28,5    cm. 

(8  72  x  11  74  in.)  -  Private  Collection,  France Plate  63 

L'oiscau  et  son   nid.    1957-58.   Oil   and   sand  on  canvas:    113  x  131  cm.  (44  7..  x  51  7-  in-) 

-  Monsieur  Georges  Braque,  Paris Plate  64 

Nature    morte   a    la   serviette,    c.    1947.    Oil   on   paper   mounted   on   canvas:    49  X  63   cm. 

(19  74x24  74   in.)  -   Matthiesen   Gallery,   London Plate  65 

Picket,    huitres    et    serviette.     1954-57.    Oil    on  canvas:    60x73   cm.   (23  7S  x  28  7g  in.)  - 

Mile.  Mariette  Lachaud,  Paris Plate  66 

A    tire    d'ailc.    1956.    Oil    and    sand    on    canvas    mounted    on    three-ply:     115x171     cm. 

(45  V4  x  67  74   in.)  -  Monsieur  Georges  Braque,  Paris Plate  67 

L'oiscau.  1958.  Oil  on  canvas:  82  x  163  cm.  (32  74  x  64  74  in.)  -  Galerie  Maeght,  Paris     .         Plate  68 







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